Untethered
by C.I.TigerFan
Summary: AU crime drama with a healthy side of romance. This is a revamped revival of one of my stories from another forum because who doesn't like a Daryl and Beth rewrite! Rated T for Dixon language and crime drama violence and M beginning with chpt 9. Enjoy the steamy BETHYL GOODNESS!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I revamped and revived this one from another forum. I think it works well in The Walking Dead AU. Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: The Luciferian All-Seeing Eye**

Atlanta PD Detectives Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes surveyed the carnage in the abandoned warehouse. Seven dead. Of those seven, only one stood out, and only because it made no sense. The APD Gang Unit confirmed, four dead Surenos and two dead STK's. Not surprising since gang related violence was nothing new in Southeast Atlanta. It was the young blonde woman, however, dead in the corner that didn't fit. Red and raised ligature marks marred her wrists and ankles. She wore a sparkly gold cocktail dress and heavy makeup, black mascara streaks stained her cheeks in tracts. "Cause 'a death," Daryl questioned as he skulked around the body.

"ME's guessin' the bullet caught the heart. Small caliber. Close range. Said he'd let us know if anything changes." Rick watched his partner, silent and intent, knowing he heard even though he made no response. "A lot 'a cuts and bruises on her legs and arms."

"Mmmm," was Daryl's only response.

"Hey Dixon!," Michonne called from the back of the warehouse. Daryl looked up to see Michonne calling him over with a wave.

Rick pocketed his notebook and fell in step with Daryl. "What are you thinkin' on this one," Rick asked as they made their way to Michonne.

"Don't know yet," Daryl scowled, "but that girl was tortured."

Rick and Daryl met Michonne in front of a black metal door hidden in the back corner of the warehouse. Detective Michonne Shumpert had been with The Violent Crimes unit for six years, longer than any of them. She had seen as much as the next detective, but rarely seemed to let things effect her. She was solid, and Daryl respected her. The look on her face when her fellow detectives reached her caused them both to pull up short with concern. "You need to see this," she said, voice thick with warning as she opened the door and allowed the men to pass.

"What the hell?" Rick whispered as he surveyed the scene in front of him. With narrowed eyes, Daryl walked the perimeter of the small, square concrete room. The walls were stained with blood splatter, some patches dark and aged, others still thin and fresh. The room smelled wet with sweat and something else, yet to be identified. There was a drain in the center of the room over which hung a large metal hook on a thick swinging chain. On the far wall, two, tethered iron manacles lay hauntingly empty.

"That hook's meant to hold a motor," Daryl mumbled.

"Think this must be where they kept her," Rick reasoned.

"There's more," Michonne said, her voice muted with disgust.

They crossed the room and followed her into a small storage closet where Michonne's partner, Detective Glenn Rhee stood waiting. There in the small, rectangular space, stainless steel instruments, meticulously kept, hung from a peg board along the wall. The metal tools were immaculate as if they were on display. A narrow work bench housed a sonic instrument cleaner and a stack of shop towels. The four detectives each surveyed the room and its contents trying to make sense of what lay before them. Rick broke the heavy silence. "How in the hell does this fit with what happened out there?"

"Dun know," Daryl answered as he pulled on latex gloves and picked up what appeared to be a surgical instrument of some kind. It was sharp and flat on one end, almost like a bladed, flathead screw driver. His eyes trailed over the array of instruments seeking to understand what it was they were looking at. A cold chill ran down his spine.

"Look at this," Glenn said from the deepest part of the brightly lit closet. "It's a branding tool, for leather or wood." He held it out for his fellow detectives to inspect.

Daryl took the tool from Glenn and studied the working end. " 'S been used... Repeatedly, but that ain't wood or leather," he said as he pulled something from the grooves of the brand and placed it in a plastic bag. He passed the iron to Rick.

"What the hell," Rick intimated again. "The brand is shaped like an eye?"

" 'S the Luciferian all-seeing eye." He knew they were staring at him before he even lifted his gaze to peer through the thick fringe of his bangs. His three fellow detectives were looking at him as if he had just grown an extra head. "What?" he snapped. "I can't drop some knowledge? It's the same as what's on the back of a one dollar bill. You know, the eye in the sky. Looks like is floatin' over the pyramid?

Rick pulled a single from his wallet and inspected the bill. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he knew better than to comment. Daryl rarely spoke, but when he did, he never failed to impress. "Glenn, see if you can get a hit on any crimes involving branding. I know it's a long shot but see what you can find." Glenn nodded, always eager to help. He had been with Violent Crimes for less than a year, but in that time, he had more than proven himself capable.

Further inspection of the warehouse yielded no more clues as to what might connect six dead gang-bangers to the pretty blonde in the corner.

Rick found Daryl kneeling next to the body again, his usual deep scowl in place. "I'm gonna' have Michonne take the photos of the six D.B.'s back to the office and run 'em through facial rec. See what she can find."

"Mmm," Daryl grunted. "Have her talk to the gang unit too. See if she can find out what's hapnin' between the Surenos and the STK's these days."

On their way out, Michonne saw two men in suits flash their badges and cross the police tape. "_Shit_," she whispered catching Glenn's attention. "Feds"

Daryl and Rick noticed them too as they entered the warehouse. One stopped to greet and gather information from the APD officer stationed near the front, the other made himself at home in the detectives' crime scene. Daryl bristled at the intrusion and shot past Rick, heading straight for the suit. "Daryl... Daryl!" Rick called wearily, recognizing the set in Daryl's jaw. He sighed and rolled his eyes as his friend politely ignored him.

"Sumpin' I can help you with?" Daryl growled, feet spread wide in a defensive stance, arms crossed over his chest.

"I doubt it," suit number one articulated as he pushed past Daryl, further into the warehouse.

"Hey," Daryl snapped and spun the guy sharply around on his heels. A shoving match ensued complete with yelling, posturing, and pointing. Rick and suit number two managed to pull the men apart before any real damage was done. Suit number two sent suit number one flying with a hard push and a forceful reprimand. "You better keep him on a leash!" Daryl yelled from behind Rick who had positioned himself between Daryl and the calmer of the two suits. Rick grabbed Daryl by the front of his shirt and shot him a look. Daryl sucked in a steadying breath and started pacing behind Rick like a caged animal.

Suit number two, the older of the two Feds offered his outstretched hand to Rick and introduced himself. "I'm Special Agent Phillip Blake, Federal Bureau of Investigations. I apologize for my partner's behavior." Rick accepted the man's hand. "You must be Detective Dixon?"

Rick pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "He's Dixon. I'm Detective Grimes." Rick eyed the agent in front of him. He was older than Rick, maybe fifty or better. He wore a thick gold band on his left ring finger and a pleasant enough smile on his face. He was of Mediterranean or Middle Eastern descent, maybe Lebanese, Rick thought, remembering the striking blue and amber eyes, like Blake's, of the Lebanese people from his special ops days in the Middle East.

"Nice to meet you both. I've heard good things about the work you do in The Violent Crimes Unit." Daryl stopped his pacing and looked at the man in front of him through squinted eyes. "That idiot over there is my partner, Special Agent Zachary Hines. He's a good guy, just a bit hot tempered. I apologize, again." Rick's eyebrow shot up and he snorted in understanding. More than once he had had to make the same apology on behalf of his partner and friend Daryl Dixon.

Ignoring his partner's snort, Daryl stepped up even with Rick. "What the hell business does the FBI have with this case?"

"Detectives Dixon, we are only interested in one aspect of your case. The woman."

"What about her?"

"We believe she's a part of something bigger than what went down in this warehouse."

"Who is she?"

"Don't know yet, but the MO tracks with a serial we've been hunting for two years now. He has just recently become active in Atlanta."

"What MO?" Rick questioned.

"Young, blonde, mid to late twenties, evening dress, heavy makeup, multiple cuts, some deep, some shallow, bruising from the neck down..."

"How the hell you find out about our vic so fast?" Daryl wondered out loud

"Four months ago, we sent out an alert to the ME's office in Futon and DeKalb counties. Anything resembling our criteria, they call."

"How many bodies?"

"Here in Atlanta?" Hines questioned having finally made his way back over. "If she's one of his, that makes three. We usually find them on the first Saturday of the month. He kills six women over a six month period then he moves on."

"Ta' where?"

"That is the question, Detective Dixon."

"Wait," Rick interjected seeing Daryl start at the agent's smart ass reply. "You said you find them on the first Saturday of the month. This is the third Tuesday of this month."

"I know," Agent Blake responded. "All of the previous victims were reported missing one to two weeks prior to being discovered. He takes his time with them. The cuts are patterned and the assault is calculated. When he's done and the girl is dead, he places the body in a conspicuous area to be found on the third Saturday of the month. Either this girl isn't one of his or she _is_, and whatever happened here interrupted his plans. If so, we're hoping to find some new evidence."

Daryl and Rick stood quietly in front of the two agents trying to sort through the few details they had just been presented with. "If you don't mind detectives," Agent Blake spoke, "we'd like to take a look at the body before the ME takes her back to the morgue."

"She's back there," Rick said and pointed to the rear of the warehouse where a black cadaver bag lay, evidence tag number seven displayed next to it. The agents followed Rick to the body flanked by Daryl and his inaudible footfalls. The younger agent, Agent Hines, knelt down next to the bag and unzipped it, exposing the young woman's face and neck. He gently rolled her to the side and brushed her hair away from the back of her neck revealing a fresh burn in the shape of an eye with angry, branded strips of flesh that moved down and away toward the shoulders. It matched the branding iron they had found in the storage closet.

Agent Hines directed his attention to the three men standing next to him. "She's one of his."

"There's something you need to see," Rick offered.

Daryl's phone rang as the men fell in step, headed to the concrete room. "It's Rhee," he said and nodded once sending the men with Rick while he stopped to take the call. "Yeah?"

"That Lucifer eye thing is significant. If that girl is branded, I think we might be dealing with a serial."

"What else?"

"The five dead guys each have a rap sheet as long as my arm. Known associates are consistent with their tattoos. Not sure what's happening between the two gangs yet, but..."

"Don't matter. Turn it over to the gang unit. Got anythin' on the woman?"

"Yeah. Twenty-eight year old Melissa Leigh McBride. No known connection to either gang. Reported missing nine days ago by her roommate. She was a waitress at The Mojito. No criminal record. I have an address for work and home."

"Send 'em to me. Talk to the roommate."

Daryl joined the others in the back room. "Anything?"

"If it's all the same to you, Detectives, I'd like to send all of this to our lab for prints and DNA. We've never been able to locate his base of operations before. These tools and instruments are a new find. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"We'll post a unit across the way. Set up surveillance just in case he comes back," Rick directed and grabbed his phone to get started.

"Already got that covered, Detective. We'll take it from here," Agent Hines countered with a smirk.

"The hell you will," Daryl spat stepping into Agent Hines' space.

Agent Blake moved to stand in front of his partner. "We're not taking over, Detectives. I can assure you that we have every intention of working with you on this case. Perhaps you can get the case files from the other two Atlanta victims. Have those cases re-assigned to Violent Crimes, and we can figure this out together."

"I want to see everything you got so far," Daryl ordered.

"Yes, of course. Our lead profiler will get you everything we have." Agent Blake looked past the two Detectives in front of him and waved another agent forward. Daryl and Rick turned to see who he was communicating with, Daryl clearly irritated that said Agent had quietly snuck up on the two of them. Agent Blake's introduction was drowned out, however, by Daryl's emphatic, "_shit_" at the sight of her.

Rick couldn't help the smile that washed across his face. "Beth Green! As I live and breath."

Agent Beth Green strolled confidently toward them wearing a blue, curve hugging skirt (_when the hell did she get curves, Daryl wondered_) and a yellow and blue sleeveless silk shirt. Her hair hung down past her shoulders in long, loose waves that bounced invitingly when she walked. Daryl licked his lips subconsciously and started moving in place in that very Daryl way that made it seem like he was coiled tight and ready to spring. It had been three years since Daryl had found that awkward goodbye note on his desk. Three years since Beth had all but disappeared from his life just as he was starting to consider the fact that Officer Beth Green had slipped into his heart. Daryl had caught himself more than once thinking about Beth and their brief time together in the Intelligence Unit. Rick stepped forward and greeted her with a hug. "_Agent_ Green, huh?"

"So it would seem," she chuckled.

"You look good, Green," Rick said with a quick approving nod.

"Thank you," she replied and a pleasant pink flush decorated her cheeks. She turned towards Daryl and met his eyes straight on. "Hello Daryl," she said kindly and smiled although it didn't seem to reach her eyes.

"Beth," he nodded and half stepped toward her before awkwardly retreating. He ended up lightly tapping her arm and growling an inaudible greeting that sounded more like a grunt than a word. Rick watched the amusing exchange wordlessly, curiosity peaked. He knew his partner had had a bit of a crush on then Officer Green, and he had suspected that his feelings were reciprocated, but once Beth was gone, his partner had never offered a word on what had actually happened between them.

"I assume Agent Blake has given you the quick rundown on what we're dealin' with?"

"Just the highlights," Rick replied. "He said you could give us the particulars."

"Right. Why don't you gather your team and meet me at the Federal Building first thing tomorrow morning. I'll show you everything we have."

"How long you been working on this?" Rick asked.

"I got the file five months ago. They had a hunch he was heading this way."

"So you're based in Atlanta?"

"Yep. Got the Atlanta assignment right out of Quantico."

Daryl snorted at that and Beth, ( _Agent Beth Green, _she quickly reminded herself), pulled up short. "Something you got to say Detective Dixon?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes and met her glare head on. "That assignment got anythin' to do with your Daddy bein' APD Chief of Police?"

Beth took one big step forward inching her way just inside Daryl's personal space. "That assignment has nothin' to do with Hershel Green and everythin' to do with graduating first in my class." If Beth didn't know better, she would have thought she saw just the ghost of a smile cross his lips before he cleared his throat and mumbled something about not expecting anything less.

"Agent Green!" Blake called from the door of the concrete room.

Beth turned back to the detectives. "I'll meet you and your team in the morning. My office."

Rick nodded and Daryl grunted. "Good to see ya Beth," Rick said sincerely as he backed away and turned to catch up with his partner who was, at present, skulking toward the car.

"She's blossomed into quite the Georgia peach, don't you think?" Rick asked Daryl as he nudged him with his elbow. Daryl stopped and looked at Rick like he had just sprouted horns or something. "Don't give me that look. She's a damn fine looking woman, and you still like her"

_Fine_... so damn _fine_. That's the word he'd been chasing in his head. When did Beth Green start looking so damn _fine_. Daryl jerked open the door to his old Ford F-250 and slid in behind the wheel. "I don't even know her. Least not any more."

"You got something on your chin there, brother." Daryl cut his eyes to the rear view mirror. "It's drool, amigo because _you_ like her."

"The hell's wrong with you?"

"You never told me what happened between you two, back in Intelligence."

"That's cause nothin' happened."

"Uhuh. Then why did ya act so weird when Sargent Jones told us she left for Quantico?

"You're weird, dumbass"

"Classic deflection," Rick countered with a knowing grin.

"Man, shut the hell up."

"I will. After you tell me whatever it is you're not telling me."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "You're not gonna' let this go are ya?"

"Negatory."

Daryl let fly a deep, irritated sigh and turned the corner toward the precinct. "She told me she was thinking about leavin'. Wanted to know if I had any reason for her ta' stay."

"I knew it. I knew she had a thing for you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't. And I couldn't give her a reason."

"Why not? I thought you liked her."

Daryl mumbled and shrugged, and Rick understood. He had no doubt that, in that moment with Beth, Daryl had run down a long mental list of all the reasons why they shouldn't be together and of all the ways he didn't quite measure up.

"Okay, so she's back. Maybe you can feel her out... see if she's still got a little spark for ya.," Rick suggested, eyebrows dancing suggestively.

"Or maybe we jus' concentrate on the case," Daryl retorted, effectively ending the discussion.

Inside the precinct, Michonne had little to add from the missing persons report on one Melissa "Missy" McBride. Rick brought her and Glenn up to speed on what all they had learned from the FBI. "Do you really think they'll give us full access," she asked.

"The lead profiler is an old friend of ours. We're supposed to meet at her office tomorrow. She said she'd give us everything they have."

"Can we trust her?"

"I think so," Rick replied. "She's Chief Green's daughter. Good people."

"We can trust her," Daryl declared and that was enough for now.

**A/N: So there it is. Completely AU. Not my usual style, but I've got this one completely mapped out. Frequent updates coming. Please let me know what you think, as I have ventured far out onto that proverbial limb! Reviews are soooo greatly appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2: This is My House

**A/N. Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews! It warms my heart!**

**Chpt 2: This is My House**

Agent Beth Green paced back and forth in front of the window of her office. Seeing Daryl Dixon again after all this time had made for a fitful nights rest. "_You are an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigations. You can do this,_" she told herself. She drew in a deep cleansing breath and released it slowly. Her small modicum of ease was completely lost when the phone rang and she let out a small squeak in surprise. "Great. Send them up," she said and dropped the receiver back in place. "_Have_ _a_ _little_ _faith, girl._ _You got this,_" she whispered to herself and headed out the door the meet the detectives. She intercepted Daryl and Rick as they exited the elevator. "Good morning!" she said, perhaps a bit too loud and cheery she realized when Daryl flinched at her greeting. Rick seemed glad enough to see her, however, when he replied in kind. "The war room is this way. Where's the rest of your team?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Rhee and Michonne are following up on a lead from yesterday. The warehouse was being rented by an internet wholesale company called Blue Tag Auto Parts. They had the warehouse for almost two years but let the lease lapse three months ago when the company went belly up. They're tracking down the business owner for an employee list."

"Good. Good work," Beth said which earned her a less than polite scoff from one Daryl Dixon. Beth spun on him, nerves already frayed, and took the offensive. "Is there a problem Detective Dixon?"

"No problem, girl. Just wonderin' when you grew into those big britches of yours 's all."

She could feel the flush rising up her neck, and it seemed to carry with it the long since forgotten pain of rejection from three years prior. "Now you listen to me, Daryl Dixon. I am **not** that same little fan girl patrolman I was three years ago when Sargent Jones called me up to help with your undercover op **which**, by the way, you could have never pulled off without me. I saved your ass in more ways than one back then and you know it. A lot has changed since then, and I'll thank you to remember that you're in **my** house now. Got it?" Beth willed herself to hold his gaze and slow her rapid breaths. She expected the flash of anger that crossed his features. What she didn't expect was the "Yes m'am " that followed. And was that a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth? Well at least Rick had the decency to cover his grin with his fist in an effort to hide his amusement whether said amusement was at her or his partner.

Either way, Beth tugged at the bottom of her white cardigan and straightened her back before spinning on her heels and escorting the two men the rest of the way down the hall and into operations. There the detectives were met with a state of the art set up. A smart board occupied the majority of the room and multiple flat screens adorned the far wall above it. Tucked in the back corner of the room, sat a large rectangular table lined with stacks of folders and case files neatly organized in piles. Next to it stood an old school dry erase board with the particulars of this case scrawled in a neat, distinctly feminine hand.

"Nice set up," Rick commented.

"It is, isn't it," Beth agreed, "but I spend most of my time over there," she said, pointing to the dry erase board. "Kickin' it old school," she giggled.

"What da' ya' know about this case?" Daryl questioned, a little annoyed at the easy banter between his partner and his... Beth"

"Well, best we can tell, this all started a little over two years ago in Northern Pennsylvania. Six women were killed over a six month period. Same MO," she said as she tossed twelve photographs from the smartboard to the monitors. There was an identification photo of each girl and a crime scene photo of the same girl to match. Rick moved closer to the monitors seemingly without even realizing he had done so and began absorbing the gruesome story laid out in front of him. Beth noticed that Daryl stayed put where he was and squinted at the monitors. She remembered how he had always kept his own copies of crime scene photos to touch and spin and mark on as he felt necessary. Daryl was thorough and observant and Beth remembered watching his hands as they sorted through stacks of photos and files, each move deliberate and focused as always. She remembered contemplating what those strong and meticulous fingers might also be capable of. "_Focus_," she reprimanded herself and continued to talk as she thumbed through a file from one of the piles on the small desk in the corner. Finding what she was looking for, she handed Daryl the same stack of photos currently displayed on the monitors. He took them and mumbled something like unto a thank you best Beth could tell. "Local law enforcement could find absolutely no connection between the girls, no trace evidence, nothing, and neither could we. Then, the murders abruptly stopped. Six months later, the same thing started happening in Roanoke, Virginia. Again, six women over six months, no connections. The third batch occurred in Greensboro, North Carolina. You can see," Beth said as she drug her finger in a nearly straight line from Pennsylvania to Georgia on the monitor, "he was headed directly for us. The bureau notified every office between North Carolina and South Florida that he was headed this way."

"Victims the same in every state?" Rick asked.

"Yes. Young women, all between twenty-two and twenty-nine, thin, athletic, and blonde. Each one was found wearing a short, tight fittin' evening dress, no jewelry, heavy makeup. The makeup is significant because a large majority of the victims didn't normally wear a lot of makeup. These girls were all well adjusted, no criminal record, no seedy behavior, solid friends and family."

"The torture?" Daryl asked without looking up from the photos spread on the table in front of him.

"Same pattern on every victim, " Beth said and sent a new picture to the largest monitor. "He cuts them shallow at first in narrow strips starting at the center of the chest, above the breasts. The cuts get deeper as they extend down the torso to the top of the thigh. The pattern mimics the All-Seeing Eye pattern of the brand on the back of the neck. It's almost like the girl's face is the eye and the cuts are the rays extending from the eye just like the brand. He's patient and meticulous, probably considers himself an artist. Best we can tell, he holds them for ten days to two weeks while he completes the pattern".

"Damn," Rick whispered under his breath.

"Sexual assault," Daryl grunted, eyes barely visible through the thick fringe of bangs that covered his forehead.

"No. No sexual assault. I don't think he sees them as a sexual being. I think maybe the victims are chosen because they look like a living canvas. They're all pale and blonde. When he's done with them, he wipes them clean with bleach, except for the face. He displays them in an area of high foot traffic to be found on the second Saturday of each month."

"COD?"

"Strangulation. No marks, so I'm thinking he uses a plastic bag."

Rick drew in a deep breath and tried to find a place for everything he had just learned. Sometimes this job just sucked. "So any leads at all?"

"I've modified the working profile they sent me, and I've revisited a few leads and loose ends, but nothing concrete so far. He's an artist in his own mind. Probably not a guy that gets noticed. He's extremely organized to the point of being obsessive / compulsive. I don't think he has a problem with women in that the torture isn't meant to degrade or defile. Its just his medium. What's weird is that he doesn't seem to keep any trophies, at least not that we can tell. As far as the brand goes, there are all kinds of interpretations for the All-Seeing Eye, but only two seem to really fit here. Fundamentally, the eye symbolizes Lucifer, the 'god' of this world, so he is either doing Lucifer's bidding or he is taking a stand of some sort in the face of Lucifer. I think it's the latter, because I don't see that our perp considers himself as inherently evil. He's proud of his work for its artistic value, and he wants the finished product displayed. On the other hand, historically, the eye is the symbol for a 'New World Order' and the sacrifices necessary for the greater good. Either way, he's driven and if we don't stop him..." she said, voice heavy with concern.

"So that's it?" Daryl questioned, "just a lot of psycho mumbo jumbo? Anything solid?"

Beth turned on him, temper flaring, (and damn if he didn't like seeing the flush in her cheeks). She narrowed her eyes at him. "As a matter of fact, I did find something," she said, lifting one finely sculpted eyebrow. "I pulled credit card receipts for the Pennsylvania victims dating back six months before the murders began. One thing popped. They all had their cars serviced at the same quick lube place inside the local 24 hour SAM's club. With employee turnover over a six month period and multiple shifts, there were a lot of names. I've narrowed a list of ninety-three down to twenty-four potential suspects."

Rick looked at Daryl and they seemed to have a silent conversation that ended with a single, small nod from Daryl. Rick turned back to Beth. "The warehouse here was last rented to an Internet auto parts company. Does that help?"

"I know, and I do think it's significant," Beth continued, too wrapped up in sharing what she had found to see the look of pride that crossed Daryl's face. He knew she had good instincts, and she was eager to learn, almost annoyingly so. She had busted his chops for weeks bugging him to teach her how to track and how to throw knives, always asking questions. Even though he had scowled and grunted at her most of the time, she never backed down, never gave up. She had even managed to coax a small tight lipped grin from him more than once. What else could he do when she flashed that blinding, toothy smile of hers? Damn if he didn't miss that smile. He was thinking about the first time he had taken her hunting. It was a few weeks before she had walked out of his life seemingly for good. He had offered to let her shoot his crossbow, a thing he had never, ever offered another human being before. She must have sensed the magnitude of his offer because her eyes had grown wider than he thought possible as she had stood in front of him, blinking rapidly before the biggest, brightest smile he had ever seen spread across her face. He had wanted to kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but he had settled, instead, for a soft shove to her shoulder when she bounced on her toes and asked, "really?" She still took his breath away, and he hated how that made him even more gruff and surly when he was around her, but how the hell else was he gonna' keep her at arms length. He sure as hell had no plans for fallin' for her again. It had just about killed him when she left the first time.

"Daryl?," he heard her call his name and got the feeling it wasn't the first time she had tried to get his attention. He sniffed and cleared his throat. She was shoving something at him which he took realizing it was a new set of photos. "Those victims were found in Roanoke, Virginia, no connections. I ran their credit cards looking for auto repair transactions, oil changes, anything of that nature, and I found one." A photo appeared on the monitor. "This is Rebecca Lynch. She had her Ford Taurus worked on at a local Ford dealership. From there, I found that three of the other victims had purchased a used Ford from the same dealership over a four month period. I'm waiting on an employee list. It's the last two victims that I can't connect."

"And the Greensboro victims?," Rick asked.

"Just got their credit card histories. Haven't had time to go through them yet."

"Don't you got any help?" Daryl grumbled.

"Agent Blake is investigating the two new murders, well, three now, and Zach is helping him."

"He's an ass," Daryl declared.

"You have no idea," Beth agreed on a sigh, "but he's a good agent and I trust him". The flash of something unreadable in her eyes caused Daryl's hackles to rise. "What's that look, Daryl Dixon," Beth asked, noticing how his mood had darkened even more.

"I need to know the bureau's really plannin' on full disclosure 'for we start doin' all the heavy liftin' on this case"

Beth's fists flew to her hips. "I just told you absolutely everything I know. And as far as the heavy liftin' goes, I haven't seen you so much as lift a finger yet! I've been pourin' over that stack of files for months now and maybe makin' a little headway. I do not need you walkin' in here and givin' me nothing but grief Detective Dixon."

"Hold on, girl, I trust ya. It's those assholes from the warehouse that I got a problem with."

Beth sighed and a little of the heat left her voice. "Agent Blake is a good man. I can promise you that his sole objective is to stop this guy. I could see it on his face when the call came through yesterday."

"And the other one?"

"Agent Hines is a jerk, no doubt, but, like I said, he's a good agent. Blake keeps him on a short leash."

Daryl could see the tension rise in her shoulders at having to defend Agent Hines. He wondered again what the story was. He couldn't help but notice too that Beth looked tired, her bright blue eyes just a little dimmer than he remembered. "Get that list. I'll call Michonne and Rhee. We'll help you get through it." He couldn't ignore the lilt of butterflies that swirled low in his gut when Beth smiled back at him so sweetly in response.

By 3:00, Daryl felt like his eyes might just cross and stay that way for good out of spite. He was hungry and cranky and feeling pretty claustrophobic. Michonne and Glenn had headed out earlier in the day to chase a lead leaving him, Rick, and Beth to trudge forward on their own. "Hey, Beth. Y'all got a cafeteria or somethin'' in this buildin' ?"

"Yeah, there's one downstairs."

"I'm gonan' get a bite. Ya'll want sumpn'?

"Bring me a sandwich and Coke. I want to finish this pile," Rick said, nodding at the small stack of papers he had yet to look at.

"Beth?"

"Yeah, I'll come with ya'"

Daryl held the door open for Beth and followed her into the hall. "I'm gonna' run to the restroom," she said and pointed at a door down the corridor. "The men's is just there if you need it." Daryl grunted in reply before he turned and headed in that general direction. He stopped short when he heard a familiar voice. "There you are, Princess. Miss me today?"

"Hardly," was Beth's curt reply.

Daryl turned back towards Beth just in time to see Agent Hines tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He watched as she slapped his hand away and forced him back with a look. When Hines laughed quietly as if they had just shared an intimate joke, Daryl was on him in three long strides. The warning in Beth's eyes was the only thing that kept him from causing a scene. "You gonna' show me where the cafeteria is or not, Green," he said sounding genuinely irritated.

"Lunch date," Hines asked, eyebrow cocked, clearly digging for dirt to store away for later.

"This ain't no damn romance novel," Daryl growled. "Just need food 's all." He backed up a step and let Beth pass leading him to elevators.

When the doors closed, Beth hit the button and turned to face Daryl. "I'm not afraid of him, you know," she said resolutely.

"Didn't think ya were."

"Thank you for not startin' something with him. The last thing I need is you fightin' my battles."

"You don't need me to protect ya'. Never did."

"Damn straight. I already kicked his ass once. He knows I'll do it again too if need be."

The smallest smile played at the corner of Daryl's lip. It was all Beth could do not to lean forward and kiss that smile right off of his face. His eyes darkened, flitting once to her lips and back to her eyes. Warmth filled her cheeks and she new she was blushing. Daryl leaned a little closer seemingly under the same spell as Beth when the elevator dinged and sent them both skittering back. Not another word was said until they both had their food and they were seated across from each other in a booth by the window. "Finish your story."

"What," Beth asked, eyes wide.

"Tell me how you kicked his ass."

"Oh! Right! Long story short, we all went out one night after we closed a big case. Hines had a little too much to drink and wouldn't take no for an answer. He showed up at my doorstep later that night, and got a little handsy, tried to force the issue," she said lightly trying to diffuse the tension on Daryl's face. "Lucky for me he was just drunk enough that I had no problem putting him in his proper place. I used my speed, like you taught me, and twisted him up. I got his hands locked behind him and shoved him off the porch before he even knew what hit him. He's been an ass ever since but he's kept his hands to himself. Mostly just drops snide little comments my way but never in front of Blake."

"Sounds like a chicken shit to me."

"Yep."

"Did you file a report or somethin'?"

"No. Once I kicked his ass, there was no need."

"Son of a bitch better keep it in line."

"Or what? You gonna' kick his ass this time?"

"Hell no! I'll hold him down and let you do the ass kickin' "

Beth giggled at that and Daryl couldn't help but think that she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

**A/N: So this chapter was heavy on the case and a little light on the flirting, but we're getting there. Bethyl is on the way, all awkward slow burn and such. Thanks for reading. And, even though I hate to beg, I'm asking emphatically, that you please drop a review and let me know what you think! Thanks!**!


	3. Sacrafice, Penance, and Atonement

**A/N: Thanks for the favorites and follows and especially the reviews! Here we go with a little Bethyl fluff and a lot of creepy bad guy.**

**Chpt 3: Sacrifice, Penance, and Absolution**

"That was Detective Dixon," Beth said as she ended her call. "They talked to the auto parts guy that rented the warehouse. He had twelve employees. Still has their addresses, but no client lists. They're on their way to pick it up now."

"Anything new with our latest victim?" Blake asked.

"Nothing yet," Beth answered, her voice heavy with sadness.

"What's wrong, Babe?" Hines asked, emphasis on the '_babe_'.

"Don't call me Babe," she snapped.

"Oh come on, Beth. Lighten up."

"Don't call me Babe," she said again in a deadly serious tone.

"Sure thing, _sweetheart_."

"You okay, Beth," Agent Blake asked recognizing that Beth was not her usual sunshine and roses self.

"He's gonna' be desperate. Our perp, I mean. I'm afraid losing this girl before he was finished with her might send him into a tailspin. There's no tellin' what he might do."

"Good," Hines interjected. "Maybe he'll do something stupid, make a mistake, and we'll nail his ass. Don't worry, Princess. We'll get him."

Beth drew in a deep, steadying breath. She just didn't feel like fussing with Hines today. More than that, she could feel the walls closing in around her, and she needed to get out. "I'm gonna' run down a lead. It may not amount to much, but it's all I have right now."

Beth's stomach was just starting to rumble in protest when her phone rang. She had spent a long day tracking down a hunch, unable to leave even the tiniest stone unturned. The label in the dress that the latest victim wore matched the label from the other two Atlanta victims. The dresses were from a high end dress shop called _Tres En Vogue _in northeast Atlanta. Two of the dresses were manufactured, but one was custom, and the shop kept records for custom orders. Beth tried not to hope too much, but it was her nature, and she couldn't help the tingle in her gut as hope built for a solid lead. She ended up on the doorstep of one Katherine McIntosh, wife of Liam McIntosh, shipping mogul. Even though she didn't make it past the foyer or the housekeeper, she learned that Mrs. McIntosh donates all of her used dresses to St. Gemma Galgani Hall. There Beth discovered that, while they appreciated all of Mrs. McIntosh's donations, fancy evening ware really didn't fill the needs of their patrons, so they typically sent them to a high end consignment boutique and used the money they got from the dresses as needed. At the consignment store, Beth's hope for a solid lead was lost when the clerk said she did remember a guy coming in and buying eight or ten dresses, all smaller sizes, but he paid in cash. She remembered him only because he kept talking to himself and refused to look at her. She said he was pretty creepy, but outside of that, no solid description. Dark hair, olive skin, and no, no surveillance cameras. Beth was on the verge of frustrated tears when her phone rang. She picked it up, feeling a little better knowing who was on the other end. "Hey," she said not quite able to hide the weariness in her voice.

"You a'right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. What's up?"

"I'm goin' for supper. You hungry?"

Beth couldn't help the warmth that flooded her face and chest. "Yes, definitely, where should I meet ya?"

"LuLu's. Twenty minutes."

"I'll be there," she said voice already lighter with the invitation.

Daryl smiled when he saw her walking toward him. How could he not when she grinned at him that way? Without a word, he held the door for her and followed her in. They settled on opposite sides of a booth by the window. "Long day," he asked noticing how her shoulders sagged just a little.

"A bit, yeah. I thought I had a lead, but it didn't pan out. "

"Tell me."

"I found the shop that sold the dress our vic was wearing. Tracked it to a consignment store. Clerk remembers a guy buying multiple dresses at one time, a couple of months ago, but no description."

"Worth a try."

"I suppose."

The waitress came and took their orders. Beth asked for the large bacon cheeseburger, fully dressed, fries, and a sweet tea. "Damn, girl. I forgot how much you could eat," Daryl teased before deciding he would have the same.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of them. Beth looked out the window at the city as it settled in for the evening, and Daryl looked at Beth. Same blue eyes, same beautiful smile, but she wasn't the same Beth. She was better, more sure of herself, stronger. She had always been strong, stronger than even she knew, and _good_. He had never known "good people" like Beth. She forced him to consider that there might just be good people left in this world. Beth's eyes flitted back to Daryl and locked with his. The slightest blush tipped his ears, and she smiled. She had no idea what that smile did to him. "How have you been, Daryl?"

He shrugged in answer and mumbled something like "you know."

"No, I don't know," she said patiently, " I haven't seen you in three years."

"Same ol' same ol', I guess."

"How long have you been with Violent Crimes?"

"Me and Rick joined the unit the same time, 'bout two years ago."

"Why'd you leave Intelligence?"

Something flashed in Daryl's eyes. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me."

"It ain't that. I'm just surprised your Daddy didn't tell ya' 's all."

"What happened?"

"'Bout six months after you left, Tyreese and Noah both got killed on an op. Come to find out, Nicholas was on the take. Sold 'em out. Your Daddy called in Major Case to investigate. When it was clear Nicholas had somethin' to do with it, they used me and Rick to set him up."

"Did it work?"

"Mmmhm. He's doing ninety to life upstate." Daryl took a long drink of sweet tea. "After that, it just weren't the same. We both put in for a transfer and ended up in V.C."

Beth nodded slowly, processing what he had just told her. She hadn't known Tyreese nor Noah all that well, although she had liked them both, and she felt the loss. After graduating from the academy, Beth had been assigned to patrol at the 19th precinct, the same precinct that housed the Intelligence Unit. She had been a patrolman for not quite two years when she was asked to help with an undercover operation out of Intelligence. They were investigating a string of attacks on women at Westwood College, and they needed bait. Much to Daryl's chagrin, Beth fit the bill. He had thought her too young, too green, and too fragile, and he had had no problem letting her know just that. Beth had been given no time to prepare for the op outside of being told that she would make her way slowly from the library, through the commons, and on to her car nightly at eleven when the library closed. After three nights of walking alone on campus, the perp finally struck, grabbing Beth from behind and shoving her hard into a big oak tree. Daryl had sprung from his hidden perch with a muffled, "_shit_," and sprinted towards her. By the time he reached her, Beth had managed an elbow to the stomach and a foot to the groin. Daryl tackled the guy from behind and took him to the ground. He clearly remembered Beth swiping at the blood dripping from her nose with the back of her hand and spitting into the grass like she was spittin' dip and ready to fight. He couldn't help the upturn of his lips when she stared the perp down as they hauled him away in cuffs.

Beth spent the next year working in Intelligence with Daryl and his team, disproving Daryl's original assessment of her time and time again. Even though things between them were rocky at best in the beginning, (Beth had thought him callous and uncaring. Daryl had assumed her to be a spoiled, college bitch princess), somewhere along the road, Beth realized that his grumps and grumbles were just his way. Daryl existed in a world where you say what you mean and you mean what you say. Everything else is just a waste of air. Daryl soon realized that Beth was as genuine and hopeful as she seemed. She helped him to see the good in people and made him believe that, in spite of what they encountered day to day in their work in Intelligence, good people still existed in this world. Daryl found himself telling Beth things he had never shared with anyone else, comforted when she offered no judgement, nor pity. He had taught her how to hunt and track, how to throw knives, and how better to use her speed to take down an opponent twice her size. She had taught him to hope and to trust.

Things between them were good, really, really good, and Daryl had just started to consider that his heart wanted more when Beth had announced her acceptance to Quantico. He and Beth had talked about her desire to work with the FBI, and it didn't surprise him in the least when she was accepted. It just made him realize that she was made for so much more than this, than him. Soon after her announcement, things started to shift between them. That little buzz of electricity that he had always felt when she was near became more of a power surge especially when she touched him, and Beth had definitely made touching him a habit, first a nudge to the shoulder then a tap to his forearm and eventually a hand tucked under his bicep when they were walking together. She had even brushed his hair out of his eyes more than once.

One night, a scant three weeks before she was set to head to Virginia, Daryl and Beth took off on his motorcycle, headed to no place in particular, as they tended to do in those days. Forty miles south of the city, Daryl saw a sign with an arrow painted under the words, "public dock,". He took the dirt road on a whim and brought his bike to a stop at the edge of the Chattahoochee River. Beth had immediately shed her converse sneaks and socks and had her toes dipped in the water when Daryl saddled up bedside her. They found themselves standing in a natural alcove where the water sat almost still and the view of the star studded Georgia sky seemed to open up just for them. Beth turned to face him, inching closer so as not to spook him. She used her long delicate fingers, first one hand and then the other, to tentatively brush the hair back from his brow. "Now I can see your pretty blue eyes," she had said in a whisper as she leaned in to him, smile so bright it threatened to burn Daryl to the ground. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands moved to her hips without his permission. Never in his life had he wanted something or someone so badly. Beth slowly rose to her toes as her eyes fluttered closed, and lightly brushed her lips against his. Fire ignited in his veins as he stood stock still unable to process the fact that maybe Beth wanted him just as much as he wanted her. When she started to pull away, instinct had Daryl hauling her flush against him and angling his head to better taste her lips. Beth drug her hands through his hair and opened her mouth to him with a soft mew. She tasted like sweet tea and peaches and he knew he would taste her on his lips until his dying day. When their lungs demanded air, Beth rocked back on her heels and locked her hands behind his neck. "You're gonna' miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon."

"Daryl?"

"Mmhm," he said, pulling his mind from the past to focus on the Beth sitting across from him.

"Where'd you go?"

Daryl shook his head and muttered something unintelligible before quickly scanning the diner for their waitress. Grabbing her attention, he motioned to her for a refill.

**TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD**

He watched from his car as they came and went. Sweat poured from every pore. He swiped at his brow and buried the heal of his hand in his right eye. The pounding over that eye was relentless. How was anyone supposed to think under so much pressure? He gripped the steering wheel, color draining from his knuckles as he begged the voices for relief. Watching... Waiting... Waiting... Watching... Too short... Too big... Too loud... Too... Too. He leaned forward, rested his forehead on the steering wheel, and cried out in agony. He covered his mouth with both hands and screamed again. Rocking back and forth, he felt like he might explode. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled it hard at the crown, squeezing his eyes tight enough to see stars. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he whined. How could he have lost her? Gathering himself, he opened his eyes and focused on the crowd milling around outside the row of bars, dance clubs, and hang outs. That's when he saw them. Surely it was a gift, a sign that he was forgiven. They were perfect, and they were together. He had never taken two at once, but what choice did he have? And how hard could it be? They never fought. They somehow understood that the sacrifice, their sacrifice and his was necessary, an honor really. After all, forgiveness isn't free and sacrifice is always required. Without penance, there can be no atonement. Without atonement, there is no peace. He reached for his tackle box, loaded two syringes, and tucked one into each jacket pocket. With tears streaming down his face, he exited the car resolved and ready to complete the task at hand.

He moved resolutely up the sidewalk, hands in his jacket pockets. The pain over his right eye threatened to take him down. It would get better. Once he had them in his possession, the pain would go away, like always. One of them slipped on the slick sidewalk. They both giggled, holding on to each other as the one removed her stilettos. Their laughter pierced his soul causing him to gag as a wave of nausea brought him to his knees. They heard him and glanced back, laughing even louder. Laughing at him. Rage roared in his gut, calming the nausea and forcing him to his feet. He surged forward, gaining speed as he closed in on his prey. He slammed the first one, face first, into the brick building as they rounded the corner toward the darkened parking lot. Her head hit the wall hard with a loud crack, and she crumpled to the ground. "_Damn it!_" he chastised himself, "_not the face. Never the face."_ He grabbed the second girl from behind, his arm snaking around her neck as he deftly removed the syringe from his pocket and slid the needle into her neck at her hairline. He prayed it was painless as her grip on his arm loosened and her hands slipped limply to her sides. He drew in a shaky breath and buried his face in her hair. Movement to his right caught his attention. The first girl was on her feet, blood spewing from a deep laceration across her forehead. Her eyes were wild as she faced him, barefooted and trapped. Somehow she had managed to hold on to her shoes which she now gripped fiercely, one in each hand. Wordlessly he rushed her, shoving her back against the wall, holding her there with his forearm as he fumbled for the second syringe, unaccustomed to using his left hand to complete his task. His fumbling afforded her the precious few seconds she needed to bury the heel of her stiletto in his ear. He grabbed his head and sank to his knees, vision blurring. The constant ache that plagued his right eye disappeared behind white hot stabs of pain from his left ear. Falling forward to his hands and knees, he tasted iron as blood ran from his ear, across his cheek, and into his mouth. He knew she was gone without even looking, knew she was likely seeking help from those who threatened to destroy his mission. In shame, he crawled forward toward the motionless heap on the ground in front of him and pulled her over his shoulder. As small as she was, it was still a struggle to stand. Stumbling forward, his sacrafice securely in hand, he disappeared into the shadows.

**A/N: Too creepy or just creepy enough? Let me know! Reviews are so appreciated**!


	4. Chapter 4: Slow, Steady, and Sure

**A/N: Bring on the fluff and a little drama to boot! Lots of Bethyl, then and now. Hope you like it.**

Beth slapped at her phone. It was way too early for any kind of good news. "Greene," she whined, voice thick with sleep.

"Wake up, girl. Might have somethin'"

"What time is it?"

"Quarter to five. Patrolman out of the 15th picked up a girl last night. Said she and her friend were attacked. Perp got away with one of 'em."

"Address?"

Beth padded to the shower, noting how dark it was outside. She was normally an early riser, but last night she had not slept well at all. Between worrying over this case and picking apart her dinner conversation with Daryl, peaceful sleep had been near on impossible. Beth thought about her first dinner / breakfast with Daryl. After her first op with Intelligence, Sargent Jones had insisted that Beth go to the hospital to have the laceration across her forehead checked out. She had wanted to stay to process the perp, but Jones wouldn't have it. Much to her surprise, Daryl had been the one to volunteer to take her to the ER. Eight butterfly stitches, one head CT, and several hours later, Daryl escorted her from the hospital to his old Ford pick up. "You hungry," he asked as he held the passenger door open for her. The 4am Waffle Hut crowd was scant, but the coffee was hot, and she was there with Daryl. You would hear no complaints from her. Beth smiled under the shower spray remembering how Daryl had cut his eyes at her when she ordered a huge hearty breakfast. She couldn't see his eyes through that fringe of too long bangs that he wore so well, but she could feel them. "Damn, girl. Don't know where you gonna' put all that food," he mumbled, making her giggle and blush.

It was there, at their impromptu breakfast, where they shared their first sunrise. It was also there that she learned just how much Daryl liked to hunt and fish, not so much by what he said, but more how he said it. Daryl was quiet but animated, always moving, as if something was boiling just under the surface. He used his shoulders, his hands, and his eyes instead of words to communicate, and Beth found it fascinating. She was inexplicably drawn to him, almost hyperaware when she was with him, so much so, that as their relationship grew, words became unnecessary.

When Daryl walked Beth to her door at a little before seven that morning, neither one questioned her silent invitation. Daryl locked the dead bolt behind him and left his boots on the rug. Beth continued on to her bedroom leaving Daryl flopped on the couch. The first time he woke her, he gently nudged her shoulder, waking her after two hours of sleep, just like the ER doctor had instructed. She opened her eyes and mumbled a quick, "Thank you, I'm good." The second time Daryl woke her, she asked him to stay. "Don't make sense you waking up and walking all the way in here every two hours."

"It ain't that far," he said with a shrug.

Beth reached out and took hold of his wrist, gently tugging him toward her. Had he wanted to resist, he could have easily done so, but he didn't. He, instead, sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed with his back to Beth. She pulled herself from her cocoon of blankets, wincing only a little at the sharp pain behind her eyes and grabbed the extra quilt from the foot of the bed. He turned his head toward the movement but kept his chin tucked to his chest, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"You can sleep on top of the covers," she said matter-of-factly as she gently placed the quilt down next to him. Daryl battled his better judgement and finally gave into his gut. In one swift move, he was on his back, one arm slung over his eyes, the other stiff at his side. Beth lowered herself to the bed next to him and felt him tense.

Undaunted, she reached for him again, this time wrapping her arm around his bicep, and pressing her forehead lightly against his shoulder. She waited patiently for him to relax, which he finally did, moments later on a deep sigh.

The third time Daryl woke her, she opened her eyes to find him lying on his side, facing her, one hand busy combing through her hair, the other tucked under the side of his face as if he had slept in that very spot his entire life. Daryl's hand froze when his eyes landed on hers. Beth gave him a soft reassuring smile that made it all the way to her eyes before she closed them again and drifted back to sleep.

The last time he woke her, it was with a soft kiss to the top of her head and a barely audible goodbye. So it had gone with them, slow, steady, and sure, at least it had up until Beth had been accepted to Quantico. After that, Daryl just seemed to disappear.

Beth parked her red Jeep Wrangler next to Daryl's truck near the crime scene tape. She spotted Daryl and Rick talking with a monster of a man who appeared to be laying out the details of the scene before them. Daryl squinted at Beth from across the parking lot. He watched as she gathered her hair against the wind and twisted it up into a messy knot on the top of her head. He remembered the first time he had ever seen her. It was in the near empty parking lot of the precinct at shift change. She had her head under the hood of her patrol car and her ass up in the air. She was so far up under the hood, her feet were off the ground. She hadn't heard his quiet footfalls as he had approached the car. "Want some help?"

"Ow!" she yelped when her head met with the hood. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on an armed police officer," she snapped.

Daryl stood amused in front of her, watching her rub the top of her head. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, the little braid that ran through it, a testament to her age. Even under the bulk of the Kevlar he could see how slight she was.

"You part of the junior ride along program or sumn', girl?" he asked only half joking.

The irritated stink eye she shot him had him fighting back a grin.

"You gonna' help me or not, smart ass?" That did make hm smile in spite of his better judgement.

"Completely dead?" he asked as he rolled up his sleeves and shoved them up and over his elbows, "or just not wantin' to turn over?"

"Completely dead," she said, taking one step back.

Daryl dove under the hood and started wiggling this and poking at that. His stomach took a tiny little drop when Beth's face appeared next to his, alarmingly close. "What do ya' think," she asked with impossibly wide eyes.

It wasn't the last time he pondered the depth of those baby blues. The way he figured it, a man could get lost and die happy in eyes like that. She blinked twice, waiting for an answer, before Daryl snapped out of the spell she had cast and promptly knocked his head on the hood too, needing to put a little space between him and her. "Either the alternator or the battery. I'll give it a jump and you can take it to the garage."

Daryl pulled his old pick up around and did just that, jolting the battery back to life. When he lowered the hood, Beth was standing next to him again. "Thanks."

"Mhmm."

"What's your name," she asked kindly.

"Dixon."

"I'm Greene," she said sticking her hand out for him to shake. "Thanks for the help, _Mr. Dixon."_

"Anytime, _Greene_," he said as he spun away and headed for his truck.

He found himself watching for her, catching glimpses here and there of a long, blonde ponytail or big, blue eyes. He knew she had to be Chief Greene's daughter, entitled and spoiled was his best guess, but something about her intrigued him.

He was glad for the distance, however, somehow knowing that being near her would complicate his life in a way that he wasn't sure he was ready for. Then, she had been asked to help with that damn undercover op. He had said his peace, right there in front of her, making it perfectly clear that he didn't care whose daughter she was, she was just gonna' get herself killed.

"You don't know that," she said calmly from across the room. He turned to look at her along with everyone else on the Intelligence team. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you don't belong in this unit," he snapped, knowing he was being an ass, but not really caring. Thinking about seeing her in harms way just set his teeth on edge.

"Not your call," she fired back.

"Maybe not, but I guaran-damn-tee ya', I'll be the one savin' your ass when this all goes to shit."

"How do you know I won't be the one savin' _your_ ass, Detective Dixon!" she yelled having finally lost her cool.

If he hadn't been so riled up, he would have laughed out loud at that. As it was, Sargent Jones stepped in before things got too out of hand. He instructed Rick to bring Beth up to speed on the particulars of the case and the op. He informed Daryl that he and Beth would be reviewing hand to hand fighting techniques, warning them not to kill each other in the process. He called it "an exercise in building trust." Daryl called it "bullshit."

As it turned out, Beth was quick on her feet and a whole lot stronger than she looked. She met him blow for blow and grunt for grumble. Daryl taught her how to stay low and use her opponent's weight to her advantage. She asked him how he could possibly know what it was like to fight someone twice his size, and he told her about the fights that his brother drug him into when he was just a kid.

Slowly but surely, Beth's good nature wore him down. Daryl opened up more to Beth in the two days they spent training and talking than he had ever opened up to anyone. He was all hard lines and grump to her soft curves and hope. Once she cracked his walls and her light ebbed its way in between those cracks, it was like he couldn't get enough.

"Morning," she said, snatching Daryl from his memories.

Rick greeted her in kind and introduced the big man with the striking orange flat top and matching goatee. "Beth, this is Detective Abraham Ford out of the 15th. Abe, this is Agent Beth Greene with the Bureau."

Abe extended his hand in greeting. "Agent Greene."

Beth took his hand, marveling at how hers completely disappeared beneath his. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for letting us look around your crime scene."

One swift nod from Detective Ford and they were moving toward the side of the building where the attack had taken place.

Beth pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "You said he used a syringe?"

"That's correct, m'am. There isn't much physical evidence, but we did get this," Detective Ford said as he knelt down next to a plastic evidence bag with a 3ml syringe inside of it. Beth's heart sped up, reacting to the potential information that clear plastic bag contained. "There's a few drops of blood over there," he said pointing over his shoulder toward the brick wall, "but the crime scene itself is pretty contaminated with foot traffic. One of my guys took the girl's statement at the hospital. She gave him a pretty good description. We're gonna' get a sketch artist with her just as soon as the doctor gives us the okay."

Beth listened as Detective Ford gave her the second hand account of the attack. She looked at the wall where the blood, most likely from their victim, was splattered. Everything around her faded as she tried to visualize the attack in her mind's eye.

She thought about the man who had done this. Could it be their guy? Two women at once was a bold move, but it made sense. He would be desperate.

A cold chill ran down her spine, putting her mind and body on high alert. She turned her head sharply from the crime scene as if someone had called her name. Without a word, she took off across the parking lot toward the street, shedding her latex gloves and increasing her speed from a trot to a full on sprint. The faded black Taurus pulled slowly from its parked position to the middle of the road. Beth skidded to a stop a hundred yards in front of the car, shielding her eyes from the rising sun. Without warning, the engine revved and the tires squealed, smoke rising from beneath them. The Taurus lurched forward, finding its grip on the pavement, and sped toward her. Out of the corner of her eye, Beth saw Daryl leap onto the hood of a nearby car and slide across, landing on his feet in one deft move. She heard her name as it tore from his lips in a desperate growl. The Taurus came to a screeching halt not ten feet in front of her. Daryl continued his charge as the car lept forward again, making a sudden U-turn, sending smoke and rock flying her way. Beth instinctively turned, shielding her face with the back of her hands and squatting low to brace for impact. Daryl slid to a stop next to her still calling her name, and hauled her up, hands flying to her face, turning her head this way and that to assess the damage. Beth swatted at his arms and grabbed two fist fulls of his shirt. "It's him!" she screamed.

"You hurt?"

Beth frowned when his voice cracked. There was no time to worry about _her_. She needed him to listen, to understand. "Daryl!," she cried, "That was him. He was watching!"

"I believe you! But, first I got to know that you're a'right."

She could have screamed. Of course she was okay. Daryl turned his head and barked at Rick. "That's our guy. Call it in and see if APD can grab him."

Daryl turned back to Beth. She was staring down the road where the Taurus had disappeared. "Damn it!" she screamed to no one in particular. Daryl saw the anger on her face as she paced in front of him. "That was him. I should have known he'd be here. I should have _expected_ him to be here." She stopped suddenly, eyes wide. "We need to make sure the girl... the one that got away... We need to get her into protective custody. He'll want her back. He may get information from her friend... the one he took. We have to keep her safe."

"I'm on it," Detective Ford said as he stepped away to make it happen.

Beth ran her hands through her hair trying to regain some composure. She glanced at Daryl and froze when she saw the look on his face. She knew that look. She had worn that same look the night Daryl had been shot all those years ago.

"You scared the shit out of me, Beth." And just like that, anger replaced fear, and he was ready to fight. "What the hell were you thinkin'?"

"I don't know... I was looking at the crime scene, and I got a feelin', you know? I just... I knew I was bein' watched. I turned around, and I saw the car. I knew it was him. I can't explain it, Daryl. I just knew it was him."

Daryl watched her hands as they flew wildly in the air coming to rest, palms down, on the top of her head. She blew out a frustrated breath and dropped her hands to her sides. Daryl reached for her, surprising them both, and tucked her into his chest. Beth knew it was wrong to want his touch here in this place, at this instant, but she was too weak to fight it. She would allow herself this one fleeting moment of weakness to forget the promise she had made to herself three years ago. The promise to let Daryl Dixon go. What Beth could never have guessed was just how much Daryl needed her in his arms right then too, no matter the consequences.

**A/N: So creepy bad guy is up next. Let me know what you think. Too much time hopping between the present and the memories? Don't want it to be confusing! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5: Stupid, Stupid Girl!

**Chpt 5: Stupid, Stupid Girl!**

She woke on a dusty mattress, hands bound with duct tape in front of her, feet bound at her ankles. The tape over her mouth made it nearly impossible to breath. Bile rose in her throat as the gravity of her situation settled like a boulder in her gut. The mattress was on the floor against the wall, giving her an unobstructed view under the bed in front of her, through the open door, and down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. She rolled onto her back and found a window behind her that had been spray painted black save one small spot in the corner, just big enough to see through with one eye. The ceiling was high and unfinished over pipes that ran the length of the room. The only light came from a single dusty bulb hanging in the center, over the bed. With effort, she rocked herself up onto her knees and searched the room for something, anything, that might help her escape. She fell back to her heels with a muffled scream when she saw him perched on the bed, studying her. A predatory grin spread slowly across his face. "I've been watching you sleep."

Terror washed over her. It pained him to see it. He didn't want to hurt her. Why couldn't she see that? He didn't want to hurt any of them. He thought about Andrea and her long, honey silk hair. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he inhaled deeply. Andrea smelled like cotton and lavender, so clean and soothing. She was perfect, and he had loved her more than life itself right up until the moment she had betrayed him. Loved her, even then, if he was being honest.

For six glorious months he had felt safe, complete, content, and so very happy. She had been so kind to him, always careful to make him feel special, to make him feel appreciated. It's how he knew, without a doubt, that she loved him too. He had watched her with her friends walking back and forth to class, throwing a frisbee around at the quad, eating at Remo's on spaghetti night each week. He understood why she couldn't tell them, why she didn't want to flaunt what they shared in front of those other girls. He was content to see her smiling at him from across the cafeteria, to know that she was leaning against the same tree, reading on the other side. Their relationship transcended what any simple mind or heart could comprehend. She had come to him for help, had sought him out because of his love for numbers. And, oh, how the numbers would spring to life when he was with her. Twice weekly they were brought together by the numbers. Twice weekly they didn't have to hide. It was the only thing that kept him going.

As always, thoughts of Andrea swung back around to betrayal. How could she hurt him like that? How could she throw everything they had away as if none of it had meant anything? "STUPID, STUPID GIRL!" he screamed, and beat his fist against his head. When he could focus again, he saw her there in front of him, tucked into the corner of the wall, tears streaming down her face. He calmed himself and cleared his throat before speaking. "You must be thirsty after such a long sleep. I'll get you some water, and then we can talk."

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Amy Holden sat stock straight on the couch, clutching a pillow securely to her chest. She stared intently at nothing on the wall across from her. She had felt so unbelievably exhausted when they had reached the safe house, but the thought of sleep brought on a fresh wave of nausea. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his wild, amber eyes go wide with fury when she buried the heal of her shoe in his ear. From somewhere in the distance, she heard her name. A soft, melodic voice was calling her back before she slipped into the waking nightmare once again.

"Amy?"

The young woman's eyes fluttered, but she continued to stare into oblivion.

"Amy," Beth tried again, this time squatting in front of her, forcing Amy to focus on her.

"Amy, I'm Beth. I work for the FBI. This is my friend, Daryl Dixon. He's a detective with the Atlanta Police Department." Amy's eyes cut briefly to Daryl. "We want to find the man that did this to you. We want to get your friend back."

"Her name is Sophia, Sophia Peletier. She's my best friend," Amy said, voice full of anguish, lip quivering.

"You were so brave, fighting back the way you did," Beth said as she settled onto the couch next to her.

"I should have stayed with Sophia," the young woman whispered, her voice thick with tears.

"No," Beth gently argued. "Goin' for help was the absolute right thing to do. If you had stayed with Sophia, you'd both be gone, and we'd have no way of findin' either one of you."

Amy lifted her eyes to Beth. "You have to find her... Please find her," she pleaded.

"Amy, you gave the police a great description of the man that attacked you. That's gonna' help us find him and Sophia. I just need to ask you a few more questions, if you're up for it?"

Amy nodded her consent.

"You said that he grabbed Sophia from behind?"

"Yes," she said and drew in a deep, ragged breath. "He threw me against the wall, and I sort of slid to the ground. When I looked up, he was behind her with his arm around her neck. He had her pinned against the wall."

"Amy, could you show me," Beth asked in earnest.

She flinched, reluctant to relive the attack in such physical detail, but willing to do whatever she had to to help find her friend. She and Beth stood together. "My vision was a little blurry, but I'm pretty sure he had her like this," she said. She lifted her left arm and pretended to hold it tightly around an invisible victim."

"Daryl... Could you," Beth asked, motioning for him to stand behind her. He stepped hesitantly toward her and wrapped his left arm around Beth's neck. "Like this?"

Amy studied the two of them in front of her. A curious look crossed her face. "No, not exactly... He," she paused and reached for Daryl's hand. "He had his fingers out straight like this," she said and placed the back of Daryl's open hand against Beth's cheek. She then angled Beth's head to the left. "He used his hand to bend her head like this. I remember thinking it looked like he might bite her. You know, like a vampire? Then I saw the needle. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and he jammed it in her neck."

"Here?" Beth asked, pointing low on her neck, near its junction with her shoulder.

"No," Amy said, brow furrowed as she stared at Beth's neck, fuzzy memories becoming clearer. "No, it was high," she said, voice becoming stronger. She tapped Beth's hairline. "It was here, high, in the strap muscle. He used a 3cc syringe, but there was no more than 2ml or so loaded in it. I'm a nurse. I could tell by the push. He was quick and precise."

Daryl relaxed his hold on Beth, but he didn't step back. He felt an overwhelming need to stay near her, to keep her safe. The physical similarities between Beth and Amy were undeniable, and it made his stomach turn.

Amy continued, "I've never seen anyone drop as quickly as Sophia did. It was almost immediate. What drug does that?"

"I don't know, but I have a friend at the ME's office who might. Was it a clear liquid?"

Amy nodded in response. She looked liked she was ready to collapse. "Here," Beth said taking Amy gently by the shoulders and guiding her back to the couch, "just a few more questions. Do you remember what happened next?"

She hesitated, gathering her thoughts. "He came after me, head on, and shoved me against the wall. He had crazy eyes. I've never seen eyes like that before. He started digging in his pocket. I assume he was going for another syringe. That's when I hit him with my shoe. He went down and I ran for help."

Daryl was impressed by her resolve. Although she shook from head to toe, she pushed through, facing her nightmare, doing all she could to try and help her friend.

"You said he had crazy eyes. Were they bloodshot like he'd been drinkin' or..."

"No," Amy interrupted. "No... I mean yes, they were bloodshot and puffy like he had been crying or something, but it was the color that was crazy. His pupils were huge, dilated, but around his pupils, his eyes were almost yellow, like a wolf's. It was the way they reflected the light, I guess. I don't know. I just remember how cold they looked."

Beth nodded, "Thank you, Amy. Here's my card if you think of anything, or if you just need to talk, okay?"

Amy took the card with a trembling hand and pulled the pillow back into her lap. Beth motioned to one of the officers charged with protecting Amy at the safe house. Daryl watched as she left orders and instructions for the protection detail to follow, then she and Daryl headed back to Beth's Jeep. "Let's go see Eugene, see if he has any idea what our guy may be loading his syringes with."

"Yes, m'am," Daryl said with a smirk.

Beth stopped short and glared at him, "What?"

"Ionnnno," Daryl mumbled and shrugged.

"You got somethin' to say, Detective Dixon, just say it," she said with her hands on her hips and her eyebrow arched.

"You look good in charge 's all," he said before slipping into the passenger's seat.

Beth couldn't help the huge smile that spread across her face.

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"Hey, Eugene," Beth said to the top of Eugene's head.

"Ah, hello, my friend Beth Greene," he answered without looking up from a tray covered with insects, each pinned, labeled, and lined up in a row.

Daryl squinted, looking from the tray to Eugene and back to the tray. "The hell you doin', Eugene?"

"Oh, Detective Dixon," he said as he looked at the two of them from behind a head piece much like a miner's head lamp only this particular contraption housed no light. Instead, it held two magnifying glasses, one over each of Eugene's eyes which made them look like they were twelve sizes too big for his head. "I did not realize that Agent Greene was not alone. These particular specimens are the larvae from the insect known as _Chrysomya megacephala._ They are quite beautiful, are they not?"

"The blowfly," Beth said, quite pleased with herself for remembering.

"Yes, the blowfly. They indicate that Mr. Melvin Pritchard there," he said pointing to a body lying on the opposite side of a glass window, "expired approximately three days ago and was left undiscovered until the neighbor's canine, a Mister Whiskers, found him while on his morning walk." Eugene blinked twice behind the magnifying glasses giving him the appearance of an oversized blowfly.

Beth giggled and reached for Eugene's headpiece. "These things make you look a bit like a fly, Euge. I'm afraid you're gonna' sprout wings and fly away like that fella' in that movie you made me watch."

"Ah, you are referring to 'The Fly' of course. The one we watched was a remake of the 1958 classic of the same title. I can assure you that, while quantum physics theorizes that matter can in deed be transferred through space and time, a telepod such as Dr. Brundle's does, in fact, not exist. There are significant theoretical holes in its design. It is also true that the science of DNA hybrid technology is such that metaphysical transport and DNA cross match would likely leave both the human and the insect immediately and cataclysmically in permanent disarray. In other words, my friend Beth Greene, I will not be sprouting wings and flying away." Eugene finished with his trademark puckered pout firmly in place.

Daryl scowled when Beth giggled again. The only words he heard were, "the movie you made me watch" and "my friend Beth Greene." Since when did these two start spending time together outside of work? Daryl started fidgeting, anxious to get Beth and get out of Dr. Eugene Porter's morgue.

"Eugene," Beth began sweetly, "a girl was abducted in the night club district last night. Her friend saw it happen. Our perp injected our vic with 2mls of a clear liquid. Her friend said the effect was immediate. Any idea what might have been in that syringe?"

"Hmmm. My best guess would be an injectable anesthetic. Most likely a dissociative anesthetic such as Ketamine or Tiletamine. Delivery in the muscle, at a high enough dose, would cause the body to go immediately limp."

"Would 2mls be enough for someone my size," Beth asked and Daryl flinched at the thought.

"2ml would be enough for someone his size," Eugene said nodding toward Daryl.

"Ketamine," Daryl said. "That Special K? The date rape drug? That's a pill or a powder. Usually gets dropped in a drink."

"You are correct, Detective Dixon. There is, however, an injectable form used in pediatric medicine as an anesthetic induction agent. The same form is used more commonly in veterinary medicine. I believe there is a large animal concentration and a small animal concentration."

"Veterinary Medicine," Beth wondered out loud. "Thanks, Eugene," she said and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "We gotta scoot, but I'll see you tomorrow night, okay?"

"Yes, tomorrow night. Good day to you Beth Greene," he said with a nod. "Good day, Detective Dixon."

"Mmmmm," Daryl grumbled, scowl firmly in place. He was quiet on the way out, not speaking until they reached her Jeep. "What's tomorra' night?"

"Tomorrow night?" Beth asked

"Eugene said he would see ya' tomorra' night."

"Oh," she grinned. "It's movie night. Once or twice a month, a few of us get together at Eugene's and watch a movie, usually an old SciFi movie. Eugene makes the most amazing snacks. They all have names that I can't pronounce, and I don't ask what's in them, but they're delicious. It's fun."

"You go by yourself?"

"Usually... Why, do you want to come with me," she asked with a grin. "I think we're watching 'Aliens' tomorrow night. Best movie ever by the way."

When Daryl didn't say anything, Beth glanced his way and caught him watching her with an unreadable expression.

"What?"

Daryl shook his head

"Just say what's on your mind," she said lightly to encourage him to do just that.

"You and Porter hook-up after you got back to town?"

"We didn't 'hook-up', Daryl. I ran into him at the morgue when I was working my first case for the bureau. It was movie night, and he asked me to come. It was good to see an old friend, you know?"

Daryl sat quietly for a minute, glad that Beth was driving and couldn't see him struggling with what he wanted to say. "Coulda' called me," he finally mumbled,

"And say what, exactly? Hey Daryl, It's Beth. I know you told me there was no reason for me to stay, but..." Beth drew in a breath to calm her temper. "I may have been the one to walk away, Daryl, but you're the one that left, and I still don't know why."

"Beth," he whispered

She shook her head. "I can't do this right now. Me and you... Its too important, and I've got too much on my brain with this case," she said as she pulled to a stop in front of the precinct. "I'm gonna' look for B&amp;E's involving veterinary hospitals. I'll start in and around the time of the first murders. It's a long shot, but who knows, we might get lucky. Goodness knows we're due a little luck."

Daryl nodded and swallowed the rest of what he had intended to say. "I'll talk to Michone and see if she has anything on those names you sent." Beth nodded hating the awkward silence that fell between them. Daryl opened the car door and turned back to her before getting out. "Call ya' later?"

Beth smiled and nodded, but it didn't reach her eyes. Daryl's heart sank. He knew he had screwed up when he let Beth walk out of his life three years earlier. He should have told her then how he felt about her. Should have given her a reason to come back to Atlanta instead of pushing her away just because he was too scared to do anything else. He'd be damned if he wouldn't find a way to make things right, now that she was back. He didn't know what he had done to deserve a second chance, but he was determined to do things right this time. No way in hell his sorry ass would ever get a third.

**A/N: Some much needed Bethyl feels coming up next. Had to move the case along a little, though. Don't forget to drop your thoughts on me before you go!**


	6. Chapter 6: What's in a Name?

**Chpt 6: What's in a Name?**

Sophia's feet throbbed. She didn't know that pain like this existed. Blood seeped from under the duct tape around her feet and ankles. She was sitting in a metal folding chair in front of a TV tray trying to keep the bottom of her feet from touching the floor beneath her. She started to shake, nearly rattling herself out of the chair, when she heard him coming.

"I brought you your favorite desert," he announced, "chocolate covered strawberries." He knelt down beside her, eager for her to see. "I remember how your face lit up that Christmas when you opened the box I got you. You asked me how I knew they were your favorite. I don't know how I knew. I just did," he said as he stroked her matted hair. He searched her eyes, longing to see his love reflected there. "Andrea, don't you know that I would do anything for you? All you have to do is ask."

"Let me go," she whimpered, voice dry and cracked like her lips.

He swatted at the tears falling steadily down her cheeks. "Don't cry, sweetheart, Everything is going to be fine. You'll see. I know things are rough right now. This place isn't as nice as what you're used to, and the food isn't as fancy, but things will get better. I promise. All we need is each other, right?... Andrea?... All we need is each other, right!" he demanded.

Sophia nodded and closed her eyes as more tears tracked down her cheeks. "Andrea, you hardly ate a thing. Here let me help you,". He stabbed at the microwave dinner with a dirty fork and brought it to her lips. She pulled away instinctively. "If you don't eat, you'll get sick. I can't let anything happen to you. I won't... Not this time."

"It hurts," she whispered. "My wrists and my feet. They hurt."

"A consequence of your actions," he said sharply. Then, in a calm, sweet tone, "I know you didn't mean it, but trust doesn't come easily."

"Please," she pleaded.

"Tell me you love me, Andrea. I know you didn't mean it. I can forgive you, just tell me you love me. Make me believe it." She could see the desperation in his eyes.

She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry, the words were painful "I love you," she finally managed.

"Say my name, Andrea," he said as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Sophia gagged and fought to keep the nausea at bay. "Tell me you love me. Say my name. Say it on a whisper or a giggle. Say it the way you used to." His hand came to rest on her neck, tangled in her hair. The other played with her fingers where they lay bound together in her lap.

"I...," she hesitated and his grip tightened on her neck. She wanted to scream at him, "_I don't know your name_," but the last time she had admitted as much, he had become enraged. The bottom of her feet were pulverized from the beating they had taken. Over and over he pounded them, tears streaming down his face, muttering on and on something about her running away again and how he couldn't let that happen. Not this time.

She could see the anger building now behind his eyes. He grabbed the back of her hair and yanked on it, hard, snapping her head back. She screamed when her knees hit the tray in front of her sending the frozen dinner flying. He covered her mouth with his hand and forced her to the floor, landing roughly on top of her. "Why do you do this to me, Andrea? Why?," he wailed. She started to shake uncontrollably, and he could see the terror in her blown pupils.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered as he shushed her and brushed her hair back from her face. He dropped his head to her chest and moaned into the crook of her neck. Lying underneath him, she could feel his body shudder under the weight of his sobs. She prayed he would cry himself to sleep, just like last night when he had lost control, and beat her feet until she wretched and heaved. Within minutes, her prayer was answered. His breathing leveled and his hand slipped from her shoulder. Trapped beneath him, Sophia turned her head and watched as a roach crawled across the scattered remains of her frozen dinner.

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"Hi, I'm Beth Greene," she said and extended her hand to Michonne from across the desk. "You're Michonne, right?"

"That's right," Michonne said as she shook the younger woman's hand.

"It's nice to meet ya'. Daryl said you've been working on all those names I sent over?"

"Yes."

"Could I run somethin' by you?"

"Sure," Michonne said and motioned for Beth to have a seat in the chair by her desk, "what 'cha got?"

"A name. Gareth William West. Do you recall seeing that on any of those lists?"

"Um, not off the top of my head, why?"

"His name popped on a B&amp;E in Pennsylvania, but I can't find any photo records, nothing to put a face to a name."

Daryl spotted Beth as soon as she walked in. "What are ya' doin' here, Greene," he asked as he made his way over to her. To anyone else his greeting would have sounded gruff and annoyed, but to Beth it was icy hot. His voice both excited and soothed her. It always had and she was helpless against it.

Beth did a double take when she saw him headed her way. He was wearing a black tee-shirt and dark blue jeans along with his trademark, shit-kicker work boots. His hair was hanging low in his eyes, and Beth had to beat back the urge to reach up and brush the fringe of bangs from his brow. Intense blue eyes peaked at her through the fray, and she was suddenly hyperaware of his presence. He settled against the desk across from Michonne's, feet crossed at the ankles, hands shoved in his pockets. He seemed to fill the space entirely as if nothing existed outside of him. Beth knew it was a slippery slope, but everything about him drew her in: his eyes, his scent, his voice, and those arms! Beth had to suppress a shiver and look away. She was grateful when Michonne answered for her.

"We're looking at a name. Gareth West."

Daryl looked to Beth for an explanation. "There were eight veterinary hospital break-ins in and around Scranton, Pennsylvania over the course of a year before the murders began. Six were smash and grabs. Perps took whatever they could get their hands on. The other two were much more precise."

"How do you mean," Michonne asked.

"In those two break-ins, the perp used a glass cutter to cut a hole just big enough to reach in and unlock a back window. Both clinics had alarms, but neither went off... He bypassed the code. Both clinics also reported the same inventory loss."

"Ketamine," Daryl ventured.

"Ketamine and Hydromorphone," Beth confirmed. There was one suspect, Gareth William West, no arrest. According to the police report, he attended to the University of Scranton. He was working on a double major, computer technology and chemical engineering. The weird part? I can't find a picture ID of this guy anywhere. There's no drivers license, no mug shot... I can't even find bank or utility records. When I called the university, all they could tell me was that he did go to school there, but dropped out in the middle of his third year. According to his transcript, he was a straight A student, but there were no accounting records and no student ID photo. He's a ghost."

"You said he was a computer major, right? Maybe he erased everythin'?" Daryl wondered.

"I don't know," Michonne said. "It's one thing to hack the DMV or even the university system, but to erase all of your financials would take some pretty serious doing..."

"I want to look at the names on those lists again. See if Gareth West or any variation of that name shows up. I could really use your help," Beth said.

"You got it," Michonne offered.

Daryl could hear in Beth's voice how much she wanted to stop this guy. Last night, with Amy, she had meant it when she said they would do everything they could to stop this guy and get Sophia back.

The last case that he and Beth had worked together in Intelligence had nearly killed her. Twelve homeless girls, all under the age of seventeen, had been found dead in a shipping container at the industrial pier. Beth had once again gone undercover, frequenting the four shelters where the girls had mostly gone for food and a safe night's rest. For two and a half weeks, she went from shelter to shelter, refusing to take a night off. Beth was tough, tougher than anybody gave her credit for. She blended in seamlessly with the younger crowd, spending her days and nights quietly asking questions and gathering information. One of the girls that Beth befriended invited her to a party down by the docks. She told Beth that some rich guy liked to throw parties once every couple of months for the girls. Rumor was, if he liked you, he would clean you up, find you work, and a place to live up town. Beth and Maggie had both been chosen. When it was all said and done, Maggie, only sixteen at the time, lay dying in Beth's arms while bullets were exchanged over their heads. Daryl had held her against him while she sobbed for a girl that no one else had even taken the time to notice. He didn't promise her that everything would be okay. He didn't say anything at all, best he remembered. But Beth seemed to take comfort in him just being there. Sobs gave way to hiccups which then gave way to deep breaths before Beth succumbed to the exhaustion safe in Daryl's arms. He remembered how heavy she felt, sleeping like the dead, to be such a wisp of a woman, when he scooped her up and carried her to her bed. He covered her up with the quilt and had intended to leave, but something about her always made it so damn hard for him to walk away. He ended up sleeping in a chair in the living room, just in case she needed him. At least that's what he had told himself.

He saw that same determination in her eyes now. The dark circles below told him she hadn't been sleeping much, and it worried him how tired she looked. Her flawless skin was unusually pale, her blue eyes just a little dull. "I'll get Rick and Glenn. Maybe we'll find somethin'," Daryl said, promising her with a silent nod that they would do their best. She understood and rewarded him with a weary but grateful smile.

They all took a list and set to work. Some time later, Michonne piped up. "Got something," she announced and headed for the dry erase board. "Wesley Garrett," she said as she wrote the same name on the board. "He worked at the Ford dealership, in the garage, in Virginia."

"I've got a William West in Scranton," Glenn added and Michonne put it on the board as well.

"Anything in North Carolina," she asked, marker ready.

"Nothin' here," Rick said as he continued to scan his list.

"Wait," Daryl said, "I got a Garett Weston. Greensboro Ford." He caught Beth's eye, and he could practically see the hope rising behind them.

"Does anybody have the list from the auto parts company here in Atlanta?"

Michonne jogged back to her desk. She shuffled through a small stack of papers and scanned through the list she was looking for. "No variations on Gareth William West."

Glenn was looking through his interview notes. "When I talked to the guy that owned the company, I asked if there was anyone else who went in and out of the warehouse on a regular basis. He told me that they sometimes ordered from the Auto Mart on fifth. Delivery guys name was Will."

"Make the call," Daryl said, eyes on Glenn. "What do we have on those names?"...

"Okay, thanks man," Glenn said and hung up the phone. All eyes turned to the young detective. "Will Garrettson was a cash pay employee. No address. No phone number. Stopped showing up to work five weeks ago."

"He would have known the warehouse company was shutting down," Rick said.

"Mhmmm," Daryl answered. "Prob'ly knew about the the engine block hook in the back too."

"Perfect place for him to do his work," Rick surmised. "Glenn, get a sketch artist over to the Auto Mart."

"What now," Michonne asked.

Rick looked at Daryl who was watching Beth, and answered for him. "It's 7:00. We go home, get some rest, and regroup in the morning. If this is our guy, we'll find him."

Reluctantly, the team trickled out, one by one, each somber with disappointment. Daryl caught Beth by the elbow and guided her to the break room. He shut the door and she headed for the window, arms crossed over her chest in a desperate effort to hold herself together.

"Beth," he said, voice deep and rough.

"It's him," she interrupted. "It's him, and he's in the wind doing who knows what to that girl. To Sophia."

Daryl moved toward her with silent footfalls, stopping just behind her. With only the thought to comfort her, he lifted his hands to her shoulders and whispered, "I'm sorry," in her ear.

Beth leaned back into him, drawing comfort from the beat of his heart against her back. When he slipped his arms around her, cocooning her against him, she closed her eyes and let her head fall to his shoulder.

"Come on," he said, nose buried in her hair, "we need to eat, get some rest."

Beth turned in his arms. "Daryl," she began, but something in his eyes stole her thoughts and she faltered, "I..." Daryl gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear letting his hand come to rest tentatively on her neck. When Beth unfolded her arms and flattened her palms to his chest, his gaze drifted to her lips. He leaned in closer, felt her shutter and rise to her toes.

"Hey Daryl, what do you think we should... Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to inter..."

"You didn't!," Beth squeaked as she pulled back from Daryl. "I uh, I was just heading out. Long day. Thank you for your help, Rick. I'll see you two tomorrow," she stammered as she skirted around the two men and headed for her belongings.

Rick turned back to Daryl, an apology on his lips. "Don't," Daryl said with a deep scowl on his face.

"Really, I'm sorry man."

"'S okay. She's just tore up over this case."

Rick shook his head slowly. "Looked like more than that to me."

Daryl cut his eyes at his friend. A low, growly "Mmmm," was his only response.

"Want my opinion?"

"No," he said, but he looked at Rick expectantly.

Rick grinned. "I think she's the best thing that ever happened to you. More than that, I think you're good for her. I remember how good the two of you were together."

"We were never together," Daryl protested.

"Yes you were, whether you knew it or not. I saw the way that girl looked at you, the way she looks at you now. Nothing's changed, friend. Not for you or her."

8AM. Beth pulled into the federal building parking lot after a much needed good night's rest. The old Ford pickup caught her eye while the man leaning against it stole her breath. She felt that familiar flutter low in her gut at the sight of him. It had been three years since she had felt those butterflies. It had taken three years of focused effort to bury her feelings for him and less than four days for those same feelings to spring to life. Things seemed different this time, however. She found herself doing less pining and more hoping. And after what happened last night, more contemplating. He had almost kissed her, or maybe she had almost kissed him. She wasn't sure. The one and only time they had kissed had been the absolute most perfect night of her life. Her heart had been on fire for him. Moving forward into a romantic relationship had seemed like the natural next step. He was the best friend she had ever had, and Daryl had all but said the same thing to her. It had nearly broken her when he pulled away.

Now here he was sauntering her way with a coffee in each hand. She tried to temper her smile when she met his eyes, but it was no use. She was happy to see him. Daryl stopped an arm's length in front of her and held out a cup. He looked almost shy shuffling his feet, waiting for her to take the cup.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, but questions played across her face.

"Jus' wanted to make sure you're a'right."

"I am, thanks."

"How'd ya' sleep," he mumbled and shoved his hand deep in his pocket.

"Like a rock," she grinned, and some of the tension left Daryl's shoulders. "Have you ever been to Pennsylvania," she blurted out.

"Never been out a' Georgia."

"I think we should go to Scranton. I can call the officer of record on the break-ins, but I want to speak to the folks at the university in person, see if it leads us anywhere. I think I can get it approved."

Daryl pulled his hand from his pocket and stated chewing on his thumb, not sure he had heard her correctly. _She said "we", right? She wants me to go to Scranton with her. To flippin' Pennsylvania._

"What do you think," she asked timidly.

Daryl shrugged his answer and gave her a whispered grunt.

Beth shrugged back at him, her cheeks a little flushed. "What does that mean," she teased.

Daryl started to nod.

"Yeah?," she asked. A hopeful smile spread across her face. It gave him the courage he needed to speak.

"Yeah. Let's go to Pennsylvania, girl."

Beth knocked on Agent Blake's door. "Hey, Chief."

Blake smiled at her in greeting and motioned for her to enter his office. Everyone called him Chief. He was a seasoned agent, respected and admired. To Beth, he was a mentor and a friend.

"I found something," she said, "a name, Gareth William West."

Blake listened as Beth recounted their findings including the dead end they had hit last night. "I need to go to Scranton. There's something I'm missing. Maybe I'll find it if I go there and start digging in person."

Agent Blake leaned back in his chair, mulling over her request. "I don't think so."

"What?," she retorted, shocked at his response. "Why not?"

"I'm just not sure a trip to Pennsylvania is warranted."

"But...," she stammered.

"Look, I've given you a lot of leeway here lately. I've allowed you to work with APD on this because, one, we need to keep a good rapport with them, and two, I know you used to be one of them. However, you work for the bureau now, and you would do well to remember that."

"I know where my loyalties lie," she shot back, temper flaring. "And since when did this become a competition? Isn't our single, common objective stopping this guy?"

"Yes, of course it is," he said very matter-of-factly.

"Then authorize this trip to Pennsylvania. The investigation is at a stand still, and this guy is gonna' get really desperate, really soon. We could lose him! We could lose the girl!"

"Or desperation could force another mistake."

"At what cost," she asked, deadly serious. "Chief, please. The answers we need are in Scranton."

Agent Blake sighed, giving Beth the once over. "Let me think about it."

"There's no time..."

"Agent Greene! You have been given an answer!"

Beth glared at him. He had never raised his voice at her before. She didn't know if she was more angry or more disappointed. The one thing she did know was that nothing was going to stand in her way, not even Phillip Blake. "Yes sir," she said, voice calm and clear. "I would like to officially request a few days vacation time, please, starting tomorrow..."

"Beth"

"I've been with the bureau two and a half years now, and I've never so much as called in sick."

Blake chewed the inside of his cheek. He knew she was serious. "You know I can't let you go alone. That means it's you and Zach all the way to Pennsylvania."

"This is a joint task, right? Detective Dixon already said he would go with me."

"Detective Dixon," Blake repeated. "Is that a personal or a professional offer?"

"Professional, I assure you," she hissed through her teeth. "He's as eager as I am to get this guy."

Blake leaned forward in his chair and pointed his finger at Beth. "You get your business done, and you get back here ASAP. You will report to me twice a day. You got it?"

She nodded once, thanked him, and high tailed it out of his office before he could change his mind. She stopped in the hall and shot Daryl a text. "Pennsylvania is a go. We leave tomorrow. I'll text you the details in a bit."

Daryl was looking over Michonne's shoulder at the list of registered Ford Taurus's in the Atlanta area. They were attempting to narrow their search by make and color when Beth's text came through. Michonne caught the twitch in his lips. "Good news?"

He responded with a whispered grunt.

"Where'd you send Rick and Glenn," she asked.

"Industrial district. Lookin' for the Taurus. Beth said this guy's a creature a habit. Maybe he's stayin' some place close to the warehouse."

Michonne nodded and turned back to her computer. "Tell Rick I'll call him later," Daryl said as he made his way to his desk.

"Where ya' headed?"

"Gotta pack."

"For what?"

Daryl took and exasperated breath, annoyed by all the question. "Me and Beth's goin' to Pennsylvania. See what we can find..." He peaked at Michonne through his bangs. "What?"

"I didn't say anything." She didn't have to. The coy little smile she was wearing said it all.

"I'll be back in a couple days."

"Have fun,"

"Ain't no fun to it. 'S work. That's all."

"Uh huh. She likes you, you know."

"How the hell you figure that?"

"Pretty obvious, if you ask me."

"Yeah, well I didn't," he said and slammed his desk drawer shut. Michonne tried to stifle a laugh when a pink-cheeked Daryl took off grumbling down the hall. She could have sworn she heard him say something about a "damn romance novel."

**A/N: I know I used Daryl's " romance novel" quote already in this story, but it just makes me smile thinking about him saying it! Please leave a review. All ideas, suggestions, and constructive criticism appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7: Scranton Has its Secrets

Chpt7: Scranton Has its Secrets

The weathered floor snagged her dress and scraped her back as he drug her to him and lifted her up and over his shoulder. He carried her back to the bedroom where she had first awoken to this nightmare. Gently, he lowered her to the mattress by the wall. Through swollen eyes, she watched him pull back a sheet that hid a tiny closet full of evening dresses. He chose two and alternately held one and then the other out in front of him. "The blue one," he said aloud and turned to her for confirmation. She blinked rapidly, eyes too dry for tears. "Yes, the blue one I think". He returned the pink one to the closet and delicately spread his choice on the bed. "You always look so beautiful in blue. It makes your eyes sparkle." His voice was light and cheerful as if he hadn't a care in the world. He squatted next to her and tapped her nose playfully. "You like blue, right?"

His smile seemed genuine, not predatory like it had last night, but when he opened the drawer to the nightstand and removed the over sized serrated blade, Sophia's eyes shot wide in horror. "No, no," he soothed rushing back to her side. "Don't be scared, sweetheart. I'm just gonna' cut the tape on your wrists so you can change clothes. Here, see," he said and slowly drug the knife under the tape. "You know, I don't really see why this duct tape is necessary," he shrugged, "but I'm not in charge so..."

Sophia watched him as he worked to free her hands. He held his tongue between his lips like a child as he concentrated on his task. His voice was soft and shy with no hint of desperation or frustration like before. There was a lightness to him, a soft bounce in his step. This was not the same man that had attacked her nor was it the same man that had cried while lying on top of her on the floor.

"Why are you doing this," she whispered.

"So you can change your dress," he answered matter-of-factly.

"No... Why are you keeping me here? What do you want from me?"

He lifted his chin slowly and studied her face. His entire being seemed to transform right in front of her. The physical features were the same, but evil rose behind his eyes and his expression darkened, setting his face in hard lines. His grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles turned white. He whirled and chucked the knife hard agains the wall. The scream that clawed its way from his throat was inhuman. Spinning back to face her, he wretched and spit and beat at his temples with his fist, his face red with rage. This was the man that had beat her feet until they were purple and swollen. He surged forward and pinned her to mattress. "What do I want from you," he screamed, showering her face with spit. "Are you kidding me? I want an apology, Andrea!"

She turned her face away and squeezed her eyes shut bracing herself for the worst. Long, thin, spider like fingers slipped around her throat. The more he screamed, the tighter his grip became. "I want things to be like they used to be. I want you to convince me that you didn't mean it!" Her lungs burned and light exploded behind her eyes, searing her retinas from the inside out. "Why is that so hard? Why, Andrea? Why!" The last thing she felt was the bone crushing crack of his head against hers before the world around her went dark and quiet.

TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD

"You sure you want to do this," Beth asked as he chewed on his thumbnail in front of the oversized windows. Daryl had watched the plane they would soon be boarding lumber into Gate 16. Beth guessed at least two-thirds of its passengers had exited when the doors to the ramp had opened. She bit her lower lip trying to keep a smile at bay when Daryl scanned the faces of each passenger no doubt searching for signs of terror or nausea or whatever it was he expected to feel on their two hour and ten minute flight to Scranton.

"Daryl," she said again. He had started to fidget, pacing back and forth in front of the window. She made a quick decision and stepped in front of him. Cupping his cheeks, she gently forced him to look at her. "Daryl, you don't have to do this."

His eyes jumped back and forth between hers and for a second she thought he might turn tail and run, but then she felt him relax on a deep breath. "Nah," he said shaking his head. " You're stuck wit' me, girl."

The smile she rewarded him with had his heart racing for an entirely different reason. Daryl was sure he could live on that smile alone if it came down to it. Beth took his hand and lead him toward the gate, guiding them toward the back so that they were one of the last ones on the plane. She didn't let go of his hand until they were seated. "You sure you don't want the window?"

" 'm sure," he said as he fit and fiddled in his seat trying to acclimate to the completely foreign surroundings. His hands finally landed on his knees in a white-knuckled grip. He gave the stewardess his undivided attention as she went through the safety procedures. He even lifted out of his seat to see exactly where the emergency exits were located when she pointed them out.

When they finally made it to the runway, Beth peeled Daryl's hand from the armrest and secured it between her own. She twisted in her seat and rested her knees on his thigh and her chin on his shoulder so that he could hear her voice in his ear. When she started to sing, Daryl closed his eyes and focused solely on her melody. "_Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done? I've fallen in love with a man on the run. Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please. Don't take that sinner from me. Oh don't take that sinner from me. He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone. Oh I just wanna take him home..."_

By the time Beth finished the song, they were thousands of miles above the earth. Daryl's eyes fluttered open and he turned his head lazily to face her. The small, tight-lipped smile he gave her was all the thanks she needed. It would be so easy to close the distance between them especially when Beth was looking at him with those big, blue eyes of hers. She tilted her head and Daryl's hand floated to her cheek. When the weight of his gaze got to be too much, Beth shifted so that her temple rested against his shoulder. When she felt Daryl's cheek against the top of her head, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted to sleep so very grateful that he had decided to take a chance and make the trip with her.

Daryl ran his hand lightly along her jaw stirring her slowly awake. Beth instinctively leaned into his touch, and batted her eyes against the cabin lights. Daryl's gruff whisper brought her attention his way. "Mornin' Sunshine."

Beth reluctantly lifted her head from his shoulder and stretched the best she could in the confined space. "Gettin' ready to land," he said, voice deep and rough.

Beth smiled at him sweetly. "I hope I didn't wear your shoulder out."

"Nah. 'S fine. But the guy behind us said somethin' 'bout your snorin'"

She sat straight up, eyes wide, " Nooooo."

"No," he said with a smirk.

Beth shot him the stink eye before turning her attention to the scenery just coming into view outside the tiny window. She saw dotted farm land and small suburban clusters surrounded by narrow rivers that cut the land into various shapes and designs. She grabbed Daryl's arm and pulled him over to have a look. She studied his face while he watched the scenery below take shape, and her gut clenched at his nearness. He had a beautiful face, rugged and finely etched. He caught her staring and returned the favor, enjoying the rise of pink in her cheeks.

From the airport, they headed straight to the University of Scranton. "Hi, Beth Greene. We have an appointment with Mrs. Grieve at 2:30."

"I'll tell her you're here," the young woman said. She did a double take when she saw Daryl and offered him a very inviting smile as she stood and turned, making her way to the closed office door behind her. Beth's eyebrow shot up, but Daryl didn't even seem to notice the other woman's attention.

Margaret Grieve was a petite yet stern looking woman in her late fifties, early sixties. They exchanged introductions and Mrs. Grieve pulled a thin file from atop her well organized desk. "This is everything we have on Gareth West," she said passing the file to Beth. "It's odd, really. As I told you on the phone yesterday, there is no picture ID in the paper file, nor is there one in the computer system. I can't explain it. I can, however, tell you what I do know about Mr. West. He attended this university on a Milton Earl scholarship. That particular scholarship covers tuition, room and board, plus on-campus employment. The recipient must maintain a minimum 3.2 grade point average, which Mr. West did up until his early departure from our campus."

"Is that an academic scholarship," Beth asked.

"In part, yes. The Milton Earl scholarship is only available to students from Pennsylvania who were either adopted or who grew up as a ward of the state."

"West was adopted?"

"No, as a matter of fact, he was not. The scholarship application with that information is also missing from his file. I was on the selection committee, however, the year that Mr. West applied. As you can imagine, the number of applicants is relatively low, thus I remember his story quite clearly. He was orphaned as a toddler when his mother committed suicide. His grandmother relinquished custody, and he was sent to foster care. I remember him to be a bright, polite, and good natured young man. He seemed very well adjusted despite his difficult upbringing. It made me wonder how a boy with his charm and intelligence had remained unadopted."

"Wher'd he work on campus," Daryl asked.

"That information is still in his file. He worked in one of the science labs on a research project with Dr. Joseph Morgan. He was also employed in the student outreach center as a math and computers tutor."

Beth glanced at Daryl. "We'd like to talk to Dr. Morgan and to someone in student outreach if we could."

"Let me just call and set that up for you. As you requested, you already have a meeting with campus police tomorrow morning, 9AM."

Beth and Daryl left the office of Mrs. Margaret Grieve, perhaps the single most efficient woman in Pennsylvania, with a file in hand and a plan for the next day. They walked in silence back to the rental car. "You think it's him," Daryl asked, breaking Beth's thoughtful silence.

"If it is, how in the hell did he erase his life?"

Daryl didn't have an answer, not yet anyway, but they both seemed to ponder the possibilities as they rode on in silence.

They stopped at a little diner near the school to grab a bite before heading to the hotel.

"How far is your aunt's place from here?"

Beth just about choked on her chicken sandwich. She had mentioned her favorite aunt in Pennsylvania, maybe once, in the time she and Daryl had spent together. When she thought about it though, she wasn't really surprised that he remembered. Daryl was the most observant man she had ever met, and he had the memory of an elephant. Still, she couldn't help herself. "How did you remember that?"

Daryl just shrugged. "Seemed important to ya'"

Beth stared at him, the bigger meaning behind his words warming her heart. "Oh," was the only word she could form. She was sure her affection for this man was written all over her face, but right then, she didn't care.

"Said she lives on a farm, right?"

"Right," she nodded gathering her wits. "She and my uncle live in Lock Haven. It's about a hundred and twenty miles from here."

"That ain't that far," he said leaving an unspoken suggestion hanging between them.

The waitress returned with their food and Beth dug in. It never ceased to amaze him how much Beth Greene could eat. "What," she asked as she wiped a big splash of ketchup from her chin.

"Nothin'," he grunted. "Tell me about Lock Haven."

"It's small... really, really small. Maybe 9 or 10,000 people if you don't count the university crowd. My aunt Deanna and uncle Reg have a farm on the river, the Susquehana. Say that three times fast," she said playfully before taking another bite of her supper.

Daryl watched and listened as Beth prattled on about her family, content to follow the melodic flow of her voice. "They have two sons, Spencer and Aiden, one younger than me, one older. Uncle Reg is a farmer and Aunt Deanna is a history professor at Lock Haven University. Their place is amazing. It's been in the family since the Revolutionary War. Deanna is my mama's sister. I used to spend all my summers there. Couldn't wait for school to end. You'd love it there, Daryl. There's acres and acres of huntin' land. We fish on the river, and they have this incredible tree house that my uncle built. I hope it's still there. I haven't actually seen my aunt and uncle since I graduated from the FBI Academy."

"Sounds nice," he said and decided right then and there that Beth would be visiting her family before they headed home.

Finally settled in their rooms at the hotel, Beth heard a soft knock on the door connecting her room to Daryl's. She opened it to find a sleepy eyed Daryl Dixon standing there in a T-shirt and pajama pants. "Jus' wanted to say goodnight."

She smiled shyly. "Goodnight," but rather than turn away, she leaned lazily against the edge of the door and waited for his eyes to find hers. "I'm glad you're here, Daryl," she said slowly on a breath.

"Yeah," he answered, voice thick and rough, "me too." A moment of heated silence passed between them. There was just something about her that both sped his heart and calmed his soul. He had never felt so lost as he did when she left for the academy, not even as a kid when he would come home to find the front door locked and nobody home until well after dark.

Something in her soft smile beckoned him forward. He reached for her, threading his fingers through the ends of her hair where it lay damp over one shoulder. Beth's breath hitched and a now, all to familiar fire, lit low in her gut. Her eyes fluttered closed when Daryl's fingers ghosted over her neck. His gaze traveled from her hair and to her eyes before landing on her mouth. She shuddered and caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. When her eyes opened, they were soft and bright and they seemed to shine like that only for him. Blood rushed in his ears drowning out that ever present voice of doubt and insecurity. Daryl felt that same pull toward her that he always felt. She was like gravity and he was helpless against it.

When his fingers stilled at the back of her neck, and his other hand settled softly on her hip, Beth lifted trembling fingers low to his waist and crumpled the hem of his T-shirt in her fist. Soft, hesitant lips connected with hers, but it was enough to send flames shooting through her veins. Heart hammering in her chest, she rose to her toes, increasing the pressure against his lips. He angled her head to the side, and she opened her mouth to his. When Beth's hand glided open-palmed up his chest and delicate fingers curled into his flesh, the tiny modicum of control that Daryl had been clinging to evaporated. She felt rather than heard the rumble in his chest as it moved upward becoming a low, guttural growl in his throat. He slid his arm around her waist, encircling her completely in his hold, finding a tiny sliver of exposed skin at the small of her back, and tugged her flush against him. Beth returned his fervor, keening against the feel of his growing bulge. Long, slow kisses became heated and hard. When Beth moaned against his lips, reality slammed into him, and he pulled back sharply, breathless and panting.

"Daryl," she breathed.

He shook his head, and she could read the apology in his eyes. "Should get some rest," he mumbled and lowered his forehead to hers. Shaken, all Beth could do was nod. Daryl pulled away trailing his calloused fingers down the length of her soft pale arm. He repeated his "g'night," but he didn't close the door and neither did Beth before stepping back into her own room.

A/N: So just a quick chapter to move the case along as well as a little angsty Bethyl. The next chapter is all Bethyl goodness and I'm so excited to post it! (Tomorrow!)

rc


	8. Chapter 8: Promises

**A/N: This chapter is all Bethyl goodness! I poured my heart into this one. Hope you enjoy it!**

Chpt 8: Promises

**9AM**: The ride to the campus police station was blessedly short. Beth grabbed a coffee at the hotel Starbucks and headed to the car as Daryl stepped out of the elevator. "Ha! Beat 'cha!" she thought when she caught his eye and motioned toward the lobby doors. He was just stepping outside holding his own cup when she pulled the car around. She had decided this morning, standing in front of the steam clouded mirror, not to think about those toe-curling kisses, not one more second. If Daryl couldn't finish what he started, that was his problem, and she'd be damned if she let him effect her ever again. She held her chin high, sipped her coffee, and hummed along with the radio all the way to campus. Daryl, per usual, kept himself quiet in the passenger seat.

The campus police station was exactly what you would expect: small, stale, and quiet. Half of the force consisted of unarmed college students tasked with writing tickets and patrolling pedestrian trails while the other half seemed a little more functional. Beth and Daryl met with the officer in charge, Sergeant Michael Pickens, who informed them that Gareth West had not even earned a parking ticket while a student at the university. He was, however, questioned when a bottle of injectable anesthetic went missing in the research lab where he worked, "but it looks like it was resolved internally. You could speak to Dr. Morgan about that. He was the professor in charge."

"That was quite a while ago," Professor Joseph Morgan said as he continued to rifle through the stacks and stacks of papers on his desk. "Best I remember, the bottle turned up and the investigation was dropped."

"What did you use the ketamine for, professor?" Beth inquired.

"To sedate the mice before procedures and euthanasia."

"What can you tell us about Gareth West?"

He paused in thought. "Good kid. Hard worker."

"Did he quit or..."

"Yes. He lost it over a girl."

"How do you mean?"

"Students date and break up. There's always drama, you know? But this was different. I got the feeling he wasn't moving on."

"Don't s'pose you remember her name," Daryl asked

"It was a long time ago, Detective."

"Professor Morgan," Beth said pointing to the picture ID hanging around his neck, "your badge is also a card swipe, right."

"Yes, you have to swipe your badge to get into the research labs."

"So Mr. West would have had a similar badge?"

"Yes, why?"

"Any chance you still have that badge?"

"That would be a question for the department secretary. I'll ask her and give you a call."

"Thank you, sir," Beth said and handed him her card.

Beth and Daryl stepped into the late morning sun. "Which way?"

Beth pulled out her cartoon-like map of the campus. "Student Outreach Center. That way."

The outreach center was a hub of activity. Behind the horse shoe shaped desk, Beth and Daryl found a young man eager to help. "That's weird," he said and made a face at the monitor.

"Let me guess. All of his information has been deleted," Beth said, not even trying to disguise her frustration. "Do you have any paper files?"

"We used to keep everything on paper. Up until a year or so ago. We back up everything off site now, so there's no need."

"He would've worked here two and a half, three years ago," Daryl said.

"Hang on. Let me get Levi. He's worked here longer than that."

Levi Brown led them to a small storage closet full of old notebooks. "We dumped everything in here until we could get the okay to destroy it. You're welcome to look through it."

"You have got to be kidding me," Beth whined. When Levi said, "dumped", he literally meant dumped. Piles of appointment books had been tossed haphazardly into the center of the tiny room.

"If it helps, the notebooks are labeled by date and subject."

"Levi, did you know Gareth West," Beth asked, all hint of frustration gone from her sweet voice.

"I knew him a little. He was really good at math."

"Did he ever mention a girlfriend?"

Levi chuckled, "No. No girlfriend. He was nice but he wasn't exactly great with the ladies. If you need anything, just yell."

Daryl held his arm out giving her a silent, "ladies first," and followed her in. They cleared two spots on the floor and set to work. Forty-five minutes later, Daryl stopped to stretch his back. He watched Beth as she continued to sort through stacks of old tutoring appointment books.

"Gonna' get a wrinkle," he mumbled with a smirk.

Beth looked up at him, taking a second to shift gears and process what he had just said. She realized she was frowning and tried to relax her face. "Look who's talkin'. Pretty sure your scowl is a registered trademark."

"Mmm," he grumbled but the twitch of his upper lip had her grinning. Moments later, Daryl found a stack of math appointment books within the date range they were searching for. Three names popped consistently over an eight month period just prior to West's departure from school. Beth grabbed her phone and called Mrs. Grieve.

Daryl leaned against the doorframe and watched Beth slowly pace up and down the narrow hallway. How could she be so damn tough and so damn beautiful all at the same time? And what the hell was he thinkin', kissin' her like he did last night? Holdin' her like his life depended on it? She deserved better than a piece of shit like him. Didn't matter that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life. Didn't matter that he always felt like smilin' when he was with her. Didn't matter that her light burned away the darkness that he carried around inside of him. Didn't matter that his heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of her or that he was willing to do whatever it took to make her happy for the rest of his life. What mattered was that he was a Dixon, and no good could ever come from that.

"Andrea Kirkman," she said stopping in front of him. "One of our names. She disappeared from her dorm on campus two and a half years ago. No body. Case was never closed. She could be ground zero."

**4PM**: Detective Hector Ortega was a seasoned detective. He was only forty-three, but he had been a cop for twenty of those forty-three years and had risen quickly through the ranks. His partner, Detective Trevor Bailey was young and eager. The Andrea Kirkman case had been his first case to go cold and he was still haunted by it.

"Yeah, that case was a bitch," Detective Ortega said glancing at his partner. "Kirkman was a sophomore. By all accounts she was smart, friendly, not an enemy one. She was a pretty little thing too. Best I recall, she had been to a fraternity dance the night she disappeared. Her date was a friend. Said he dropped her off at her dorm a little after midnight. Walked her to the door and watched her go inside. Security footage confirmed he went back to his room shortly thereafter. Roommate said he didn't go out again that night."

"Did you like him for it," Daryl asked.

"No, I really didn't. He was pretty upset by the whole thing. Seemed genuine. Alibi checked out."

"Did the name Gareth West come up in your investigation?"

"Doesn't sound familiar, but let me grab my notes," he said and excused himself to the back of the squad room.

"What's got the FBI stirred up again over this case," Detective Bailey finally spoke. "It's not like you guys were any help the first time you poked around."

"The first time?" Beth questioned.

"Agent showed up about three weeks after the case went cold. He looked through all our notes, and said he would be in touch. Never heard another thing from him."

Beth looked at Daryl with a deep frown and turned back to Bailey. "You said 'he'. Was there just one agent?"

"Yep, just one."

"Do you have a name?"

"Should be in the notes."

Ortega returned with a dusty evidence box in hand. "This is everything we have. As you can see, it isn't much, but you're welcome to it. Let me just look through my list of names. West, you said?"

"Yes, Gareth West. He was her math tutor."

"Let's see... Yeah, Gareth West. We interviewed him a few days after the disappearance. He lived in her dorm. Friends said he would show up at different times and places, but there was no real interaction. Seemed like maybe he had a crush on her, but nothing significant turned up. He was never forward or inappropriate according to the friends closest to Kirkman."

"Detective Bailey said that the bureau was involved at one point."

"You know that was really strange. One of your agents showed up weeks after the investigation stalled. He looked at my notes and asked if we had photographs or videos of our interviews. I remember because one, he showed up out of nowhere so late into the investigation and, two, we don't routinely photograph or video anyone unless we haul 'em in as a suspect. It was more like this guy was just being nosey, you know. He was pretty useless when he was here. No offense, Agent Greene."

"None take ," she assured him. "Do you have the agent's name?"

"Uh, yeah, I should," he said as he flipped through his notebook. "Here it is. Agent Philip Blake."

Stunned, Beth's eyes went wide. "You're sure?"

"That's what I wrote down. Why? You know him?"

"Yes," she said regaining her composure. "He's a good agent. I'm sure he did everything he could to help."

"Could we see a photo of Kirkman," Daryl asked purposefully shifting the conversation.

Ortega passed him the photo and told him to keep it. He had more copies. Andrea Kirkman fit the profile exactly. She was the profile. Ground Zero. And Daryl's gut was tellin' him that Gareth West was the man responsible.

Beth stood and thanked the men for their time. She needed to get out of the squad room as soon as possible. She pulled out her phone on the way to the car. "This is Agent Greene calling again. Is Mrs. Grieve still in her office?... Thank you... Yes, hello. I just have a couple of follow-up questions if you don't mind... I'm sure you're familiar with the disappearance of Andrea Kirkman... That's right. Do you recall speaking with an agent from the bureau during that investigation?... Do you remember his name?... Would he have had access to your computer as part of that investigation?... Thank you, Mrs. Grieve. You've been very helpful."

Daryl watched her, following her with his eyes as she paced and talked on the phone. What the hell was Blake doin' here? More importantly, what was his involvement gonna' do to Beth? He knew she trusted him, cared about him as a friend and a mentor.

Beth walked back to the car where Daryl leaned against the trunk. He rose to meet her. "Mrs. Grieve spoke to a single agent investigating Andrea Kirkman's disappearance. She didn't remember his name, but she said he spent the afternoon on her assistant's computer with complete access to student records. He had a court order from a federal judge."

Daryl drew in a breath. He had learned a long time ago to trust his gut, and right now his gut was screaming that this was bad, really bad. "You think he was wipin' West from the system?"

She didn't need to answer. The look on her face said she did, in fact, think that that was exactly what Blake was doing. It killed him to see her hurting like that.

"Why? Why would he do it? I don't get it." Hurt had quickly morphed into anger. Betrayal tended to do that to a person. Beth had her arms crossed over her chest. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were on fire. She threw her head back. "Think. I need to think."

Daryl stepped forward and took hold of her shoulders. "Hey, let's go back to the hotel. We can take a walk, talk it out like we used ta'."

She sighed deeply and he felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Daryl's hands slid lightly down her arms, landing at her elbows. He bent down to meet her eyes. "Yeah?"

Beth nodded and slid into the passenger seat without arguing.

By the time Daryl made it to the driver's side, Beth was on the phone, seemingly completely composed. She was instructing someone on the other end to speak to a friendly federal judge, one she knew by name, that would allow them complete access to Gareth West's juvenile history. She finished with an order to report back directly to her with the findings.

Daryl was impressed and that was saying something. He wasn't sure if he had the right to be proud of her, but he figured he was anyway. He knew Beth could take care of herself. He trusted her with his own ass, but his gut was telling him that this shit was gonna' get bad, and it stirred up that protective edge he had always felt where Beth was concerned.

"That was my friend Holly at the bureau. She said she would let me know something by tonight."

Daryl nodded, no hint of all he was feeling and thinking in his expression. "Ya' hungry?"

"Maybe somethin' quick. I want to get back to my computer."

Daryl had just finished his shower and grabbed the remote when Beth burst through the connecting door. Her face was flushed and her breaths were ragged and quick. Tears pricked at her eyes setting Daryl on high alert. "What?" he demanded

"I pulled Blake's file. I thought I remembered him telling me he went to Penn State. He's from Pennsylvania, Daryl. He worked in the Allentown office after he graduated. It's unusual to catch an assignment anywhere near your hometown unless you graduate first in your class and choose that, but Blake is fluent in Lebanese, Arabic, and French... all native languages to the Lebanese people. There's a huge contingent of Lebanese and Muslim people in the Allentown area. Thus, his assignment."

"Slow down. What are ya' gettin' at?"

"Holly called. Gareth West's mother, Mary, was twenty-three when he was born. There's no father listed on the birth certificate. Shortly after Gareth's birth, Mary West started to build quite the arrest record for everything from public indecency to public intoxication, possession, and prostitution. Nothing prior to his birth. Mary had an address in Allentown." Beth paused and drew in a shaky breath. "She lived there two years before Gareth was born. Around the time of his birth, she moved to Mansfield to live with her mother, Deloris West, where Gareth lived until he was sent to foster care. Deloris still lives at that address."

"Your thinkin', what, Blake knew his mom?"

Beth ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know... I."

Daryl tossed the remote on the bed. "Come on. Let's walk. I can't think in here."

They took the stairs and ended up on a short nature trail behind the hotel. It wasn't dense and isolated like the woods back home where he used to take her hunting, but it was green and quiet, and they could see the moon and the stars overhead. Beth felt like she could breath again.

"Daryl," she said, voice stronger and calmer, "Blake's connected. I don't know how, but there's somethin' there. He spent four years in Allentown. From there, he transferred to Virginia. He spent seven years in that office before being transferred to Greensboro. After that, he landed in Atlanta. There was nothing unusual about any of the transfers. Blake is single. He can pack up and leave without too much trouble. Each transfer was initiated by the bureau, based on need because of a retirement or a transfer."

"You think West is trackin' him?"

"I don't know. We need to see if we can connect either Mary West or Gareth to Blake."

"How far is Mansfield from here?"

"Couple of hours, maybe."

"Allentown?"

"It's closer, but it's huge. Third largest city in Pennsylvania. I think Mansfield is our better bet."

"Mansfield it is."

"I don't get it, Daryl. Why didn't Blake say anything when I gave him Gareth West's name?"

Daryl shook his head. Ideas and theories were bouncing around in there, but he wasn't quite ready to share. "Do you trust him?"

Beth stopped and considered his question. "Not like I trust you... But, yeah, I trust him. At least I did... Now, I don't know... I need to call this in... Tell Zach."

"Iduno', maybe you should wait. See what we find in Mansfield."

"Blake's gonna' know I pulled his file." The weight of what was happening settled into her shoulders.

Daryl stepped to her, arms landing at her elbows and Beth fell willingly into his chest. "We'll figure this out."

She nodded into his chest and inhaled a deep, nose full of Daryl. He smelled like timber and pine, and it settled her. Composed, she took one small step back from him, just enough to look up and catch his eyes. Something shifted in her expression. It made him want to start fidgeting. "Daryl, what happened... before... with us?"

It was rare that Daryl was caught off guard. It made him defensive. "You left," he spat with a little more venom than he intended.

Beth knew she had ambushed him, but right now, she was tired and weighed down, and she needed to get through this so that they could move on, so that she could clear her head and focus on the task at hand. Daryl backed away from her, hackles up.

"You kissed me, Daryl. You finally kissed me, after all those months of talkin' and spendin' time together. I thought it meant somethin'."

"It did."

"Then why'd you push me away?"

"I didn't! That was all you, girl," he hissed.

"You acted like a jackass! Like nothin' that happened between us mattered! It was bullshit, and you know it."

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I know," she said voice cracking on the last word. Anger gave way to hurt, and she nearly choked on the swell of tears caught in her throat.

"You don't know nothin'," he fired back.

"I know you and I were workin' on somethin' good... somethin' lastin' and you walked away... just 'cause you were afraid."

He lunged into her space and growled, "I ain't afraid 'a nothin'"

Beth held her own. "I remember. I was there when the Sargeant told you your brother had been in that wreck. I was with you at the hospital when he died. Heaven forbid you let anybody else get too close. You tried to shut down then, but I wouldn't let you... You don't get it, Daryl..."

"No, you don't get it! Maybe I could 'a done somethin'. Maybe if I hadn't given' up on him... Merle. That's on me... You leavin'? That's on you." He was twitching and finger pointing and yelling like there was no tomorrow. "You took off to join the FBI like some too-good-for-the-rest-of-us college bitch."

"It wasn't like that! I needed to get out from under my daddy's shadow. Make it on my own. You would know that if you'd 'a just talked to me, instead of pushin' me away. I always intended on comin' back to Atlanta... back to you."

Daryl's heart stuttered in his chest, and he let out a breath like he'd been punched. She was telling the truth. He could see it in her eyes. It was too much and he spun away from her. "You deserve better than a piece 'a shit, like me."

"You're an idiot, Daryl Dixon, but you're not a piece 'a shit." He stiffened when her arms snaked around his waist from behind. "Just tell me the truth."

"Truth..." Daryl shook his head and dropped his chin to his chest. He couldn't lie to her. Daryl Dixon was a lot of things, but a liar wasn't one of 'em. Beth kept holding him, pressing her cheek against his back. He finally stilled, arms limp at his sides. "Truth is, you were right," he half mumbled. "I missed you so bad when you were gone." It was her turn to tense. Daryl covered her arms with his, holding her to him. "I figured you'd run off to Virginia and some hot shot fed would scoop you up. Thought it'd be better to just go ahead and let ya' go, you know?"

"And now?"

Daryl felt her heart pounding against his back. It matched the run away rhythm of his own. "I ain't no good for ya' Beth. What I want and what's best just ain't the same thing."

Beth pulled away from him then, jaw set in determination. "Look at me, Daryl."

He threw his head back and sighed. "Look.. at.. me," she repeated, and he turned, eyes to the sky, hands deep in his pockets. Well, that wasn't gonna' fly, Beth decided. She stepped right up to him and cradled his cheeks in her hands, forcing his eyes to hers. "You're a good man, Daryl Dixon, and you can trust me on that because I know you better than anybody."

His entire being softened, and Beth hoped he believed her. She lowered her hands to his chest. "Do you remember when you were teaching me to use your crossbow, and I said something about bein' more likely to shoot myself in the foot than I was to shoot a rabbit?" His lip twitched a little at the memory. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

He frowned at her, not sure where she was going with this.

"You said, 'nah, you got this, girl. I believe in ya'," Beth said in her best Daryl Dixon impression. "No one ever believed in me, for me, before you, Daryl. I hear you in my head and it gives me strength."

"You don't need me, Beth."

"You're wrong. I do need you... I want you."

She meant it. He could see it in her eyes, and it overwhelmed him. The air around them hummed and Daryl's heart slammed against his chest. His instincts told him to run, but the way Beth was looking at him had him rooted in place. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were impossibly wide, beckoning him to her.

His hands found her hips on their own accord and slid slowly up and under her shirt to her waist, thumbs brushing lightly over soft, heated skin. She was so damn beautiful. More than that, she was smart and tough and good, and he just couldn't figure what the hell it was she saw in him.

She brushed the hair out of his eyes with fingers as soft as a spring rabbit's pelt. He watched her studying him. "You have a beautiful face," she whispered. He would have scoffed had he not been completely mesmerized by her touch. She trailed her fingers lightly over his eyebrow and followed the hard line etched deep between his eyes down and over the crook of his nose. She wondered, not for the first time, how and when he had broken his nose.

She cupped his face in her hands and smoothed her thumbs over his cheek bones. When her eyes again lifted to his, he was the one to close the distance between them. He kissed her softly, sliding his lips gently over hers. It was slow and sincere. The world around them faded away, and time bent to their will, existing only for them.

Beth's fingers threaded through his hair tugging him closer. As their tongues tasted, explored, and tangled together, Daryl slipped his arms around her waist and splayed his fingers against her back. A soft mew spilled from her lips and he knew, in that moment, that he would spend the rest of his days doing whatever it took to pull noises like that from her as often as he could.

The need for oxygen forced them apart, both panting and flushed. Lightheaded, Beth held tight to Daryl's shoulders. "You a'right?" he asked, voice deep and rough.

Beth licked her lips and nodded. A brilliant smile painted her beautiful face, nearly knocking him on his ass. "Better now, thank you."

"Best get back upstairs. Gettin' late."

Beth wasn't sure what she was expecting to happen when they reached their doors, but she figured she would let Daryl take the lead. He had slipped his hand over hers in the elevator, and Beth had weaved her fingers between his. She was surprised when he lifted their joined hands and ghosted his lips over her knuckles. When they reached his door first, and Daryl dropped her hand to fish out his key card, Beth made to continue on toward her door. Daryl's arm shot out from his side, grabbing her wrist and spinning her back to him.

"Where you goin', Greene," he gruffed and hauled her into his chest. She giggled, and Daryl thought it was the sweetest damn thing he had ever heard.

She swayed back and forth lazily in his arms. Daryl swept an errant curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "So we headed to Mansfield in the mornin'?"

"I think that's our best bet, don't you?"

"Mhmmm. I'm gonna' call Rick. Check in."

"I think I'll grab a shower. Figure out our route for tomorrow." The way her lithe fingers continued to play with the top button of his shirt told him she was as reluctant to let go as he was. She lifted her eyes to his and pinned him with her gaze. They stilled, and her hands flattened on his chest, one placed directly over his run away heart. His world narrowed and focused only on her. He kissed her softly, almost playfully, and it shocked him how natural, how right, it felt to hold her and kiss her and let all of those walls he hid behind fall away.

When his fingers tightened on her hips, Beth snaked her arms around his neck and tugged him closer. The slide of his tongue over hers sent a violent rush of heat to her core. She had been kissed before, but never so thoroughly. She melded into him fitting her soft curves to his hard lines. When desire threatened to carry them away like a runaway train, Daryl mustered all the strength he had to pull his lips from hers. She was quite the sight standing there in his arms with her plump, swollen lips and her flushed cheeks. It confounded him that he was the reason. The ding of the elevator had them pulling apart much too soon.

"Holler when you're settled," he mumbled and Beth shivered at the low, breathy roughness of his voice.

It was all she could do to get her key card in the door. When she stepped across the threshold and Daryl heard the muffled click of the lock, he headed inside for a nice, cool shower of his own.

It was late when the sudden loss of light through the connecting doors caught her attention. Daryl had stuck his head in earlier and told her he was going for food. He sat the takeout on the bed next to her and kissed her on the top of the head before retreating to his room and leaving her to her research. That was three hours ago.

Beth shut down her laptop and tiptoed to the connecting door. He was lying on his back across the bed in a black t-shirt and black boxer briefs, forearm throne over his eyes. Beth leaned against the doorframe and drank in the site of him. Her eyes traveled the length of his profile resting momentarily on what she could see of his rugged face. She watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and wondered what it what feel like, skin to skin, beneath her hands. She could see a sliver of naked skin just above the waistband of his boxers. The temptation to slide her hand across his core was almost to much to resist. Her eyes slipped dangerously lower and a fire ignited low in her gut.

"Come 'ere," he rasped, and Beth eeped in surprise.

"You scared the begeezers out of me," she giggled. "I thought you were asleep."

He chuckled, low and deep, eyes still masked by his forearm. The smirk he was wearing disappeared when he sat up and saw her standing in the doorway. She wore a light blue pajama tank with narrow satin straps and matching shorts that hung low on her hips. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair, a riotous mass of damp curls, shimmered in the soft light from the bedside lamp. Daryl had never wanted anything in his life like he wanted her.

He took his time as he raked his eyes from her eyes to her lips, pausing at her small, pert breasts, down to her hips and across the expanse of her long, athletic legs. He wondered, not for the first time, what those legs would feel like tangled up with his own.

Beth was nieve at best when it came to men, but even she could see the want in his eyes. The air around them nearly crackled with electricity. A tingle ran up her spine and through her heart culminating in the soft swell of her breasts. She had never seen his eyes so dark. They drew her to him like a moth to a flame.

When she reached him, she squared herself between his knees, and Daryl cupped her hips. The little circles he traced with his thumbs had her twitching in his hold. She ran trembling fingers through his hair making sure to sweep his bangs out of his eyes. He looked up at her through pupils blown wide with desire. Beth shifted forward placing one knee and then the other on either side of his thighs, effectively straddling his lap. Daryl's hands slipped beneath her shirt and splayed flat against her back while his lips went to work on her neck and shoulder. Beth arched into him, fingers scraping his scalp, drawing him closer.

In one deft move, Daryl had her on her back beneath him. He held her in place with a hard stare. "You sure 'bout this?"

Beth's foot slid up the back of his leg opening herself to him in reply.

"_Beth_..." She had never heard her name whispered in such a way. It was a question, a warning, and a prayer all in one.

"I'm sure that I want you, Daryl". And he didn't doubt it, but he also knew that they needed to take things slow.

Beth had asked him once when they were hunting together if he had ever been in love. He had given her an honest, if slightly irritated, "no". They were walking together through the woods looking for tracks. Usually Beth was pretty quiet in the woods, but that day she was feeling particularly chatty. She had proceeded then to ask him if he had ever had a serious girlfriend. "Why you askin' me that," he said never taking his eyes from the forest floor.

"'Cause I know that if you ever fall in love with someone, you're gonna' love 'em forever. I'm just wonderin' if your heart is still available."

She just about knocked him out of his boots. How in the hell did she know things like that about him? Beth walked on ahead oblivious to his sudden inability to move or think or maybe even breath. When she asked him straight up if he had ever had sex, he snapped to.

His gut reaction was to puff up and give her a loud, "Hell yeah, I've had sex." Anybody else askin' probably would have gotten a solid punch to the face just for the hell of it. But this was Beth, and she wasn't asking to judge or to be nosey. She was asking because she cared to know.

"I'm a grown man, Beth. What do you think?"

"I think I'm a grown woman, and I've never had sex."

You could have knocked him over with a feather. Was she trying to kill him? He stopped walking and Beth turned back to him with a little smirk on her face. "You surprised to hear that?"

Shock and awe. He was speechless. He shrugged his answer and mumbled something about it not being any of his damn business.

Beth just giggled. "I'm not ashamed of waiting to fall in love before I have sex. I think me and you are the same. Once I fall in love, that's it."

Her smirk grew into a grin. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Ain't goin' to neither."

"Oh come on, Daryl. I know it's different for men. You ever been with anybody special?"

Daryl thought about the nameless, faceless women he had been with. Wham, bam, and thank you mam pretty much summed it up. His choices were usually made by Merle and alcohol. Since he had cleaned himself up and become a cop, there had been very few women in his life, certainly no one special, not until now. He couldn't imagine at the time that Beth could ever see him as anything more than a friend. He had racked his brain trying to figure out why she seemed to like spending time with him at all. He couldn't really tell you how or when she had become such a huge part of his life. She had just sort of snuck up on him, unexpected, but now he couldn't remember what life was like without her.

"Nah, nobody special."

Her grin grew again morphing into the brightest, most beautiful smile he had ever seen. She looked like sunshine standing there in front of him and he knew, right then and there, that he wouldn't be able to survive without her light.

Looking at her now, trembling beneath him, he knew she was right. He was gonna' love her for the rest of his life, which meant there was plenty of time for this thing between them to unfold. He didn't want her first time to be in a hotel, in the middle of a tough case, when she was feeling vulnerable. He didn't want her to ever regret her first time.

"I want ya' to stay in here with me tonight. Jus' wanna' feel ya' next to me."

Hurt flashed in her eyes. "You don't want to be with me?"

"'Course I wanna' be with ya', girl... You're my somebody special. Don't ya' know that?"

Beth knew exactly what he meant and a soft smile graced her face.

"But I ain't gonna' have your first time be in no damn hotel room."

She giggled and Daryl actually smiled. Beth traced his jawline with her thumb and pinned him with her gaze. When she lifted her head and tugged him toward her, he was powerless to resist. She kissed him tenderly, opening her mouth to him on a soft mew. Daryl lowered himself to her, melting into her, lost in her kiss. Her hands slid to his back and her leg tightened around his waist. He pulled back just enough to see her face. "Beth... We gotta' stop or I won't be able to."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and nodded. Daryl sat back and pulled the covers down next to her. Beth lifted her hips and scooted in against the cool sheets. They soothed her heated skin and caused her to shiver. "You cold?" he asked as he slid under the covers next to her and pulled her tight against him.

"Uhuh," Beth answered.

She pillowed her head on his chest and boldly threw her leg over his. Daryl's grip tightened on her hip. "Careful, girl."

Beth giggled again and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

"Listen," he said and Beth could tell by the tone of his voice that he was serious, "I want you to watch yourself. 'Least until we can figure out what Blake's got to do with this som' bitch we're chasin'. You fit the profile, and I ain't ashamed to say it scares the hell out 'a me."

Beth covered his hand with her own where it lay over his heart.

"Promise me, Beth."

"I promise."

**A/N: Well that was a long one, but it was particularly fun to write! Would really appreciate knowing what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9: Hidden Talents

**A/N: First, thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! The reviews especially mean more than you know! Second, so, this chapter was supposed to move the investigation along, but I just couldn't quiet the Bethyl Goodness muse. So, you get a little bit of creepy guy and a whole lot of steamy Beth and Daryl instead. Enjoy!**

**Chpt 9: Hidden Talents**

Sophia woke to a throbbing headache, the kind that makes you dizzy and nauseous. She waited for her vision to clear and vaguely wondered if she had a concussion. Slowly the bedside table came into focus. She realized two things simultaneously. One, that's where he kept the big knife, and two, her hands were free of the duct tape.

Her heart raced, a desperate plan forming in her foggy mind. She inched closer to the table willing herself to move slowly and quietly. Her wrists throbbed and her feet ached. The duct tape around her ankles sent shards of pain streaking up her legs with each move. She had to stop and disentangle herself from the new, blue silk evening gown that had wrapped around her calves and thighs. She shivered and nearly wretched at the thought of his hands touching her unconscious body while he changed her clothes. The new gown had a plunging neck line and a low, reveling scoop in the back. The length made forward movement extremely difficult, but she managed to scoot and roll to the table.

She reached with trembling hands for the knob and pulled, but the table was old and the wood was warped. She needed leverage to force the drawer open. Heart hammering in her chest, she peaked over the bed. Movement to her left caught her attention and she whipped her head around.

"There's nothing in there you need," he hissed.

An unmistakeable scream of terror and desperation flew from her mouth. She jerked the drawer open hard enough that it flew out of the table, sending its contents crashing down around her. He flew toward her like a spider, all legs and arms ,with a predatory grin. Spotting the knife on the floor, she dove at it wildly. He grabbed her ankles and yanked her back. Blinding pain caused her to stiffen and cry out again. He rolled her underneath him and skittered across her to reclaim the knife. A hard knee to the gut and another across her chest had her gasping for air.

He yanked her up by the hair and flung her against the wall. Sophia slid to the ground with a resonating thump. "You always do this!," he wailed. He grabbed his head and fell to his knees gagging and retching in front of her. They both lay there unmoving each trying to slow their ragged breaths. When he finally moved, Sophia pushed herself up and scooted back against the wall for support.

Gone was the pain that had shaped his face only moments before. He stood to his full height seeming to grow right in front of her. He held himself tall and confident in a wide-legged stance, fists clinched at his sides like he was ready to fight. The man standing before her now was ice cold and calculating. He cocked his head to the side and snarled. Humorless laughter danced in his eyes. "I've been waiting patiently for our turn to dance."

~TWD~

"I just can't see how Blake could be actively involved. I don't think he's capable of the things we've seen. I've been working this case with him for months now and..."

"And he never mentioned Scranton or West."

Beth looked at him, frustration etched in her features. "There has to be a reasonable explanation."

"Yeah, well, 'till we get one, you keep yourself close," Daryl said and squeezed her hand. They were standing in the hotel elevator, hand in hand, and it should have shocked Daryl how right and natural it felt, but it didn't. He was too damn happy to care.

He had woken up curled protectively around Beth just as the sun considered rising. Blond curls tickled his nose and his fingers were asleep from where Beth lay pillowed on his bicep. He couldn't remember a better nights sleep.

In those moments between sleep and wake when limbs are heavy and the mind is fuzzy, Beth reached for Daryl's hand where it lay lightly on her hip, and pulled it snugly around her, cupping his hand between hers at her chin. Daryl nuzzled her neck, burying his nose in her hair. She giggled and turned toward him with a smile bright enough to rival the morning sun. Daryl couldn't help but return her smile with a small, contented one of his own. Blessed was not a word that Daryl had ever thought to use when considering his life, at least not until now.

Beth ran a single finger along his jaw and sighed. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't wanted this with Daryl. The first time she had ever seen him, he was pitching a fit in the Chief of Detective's office. She had just graduated from the police academy, and she was visiting her daddy at his office downtown. A tall man with wavy hair and a thick beard was holding back the most ruggedly beautiful man she had ever seen. He was screaming at another man across the room, "I'm gonna' stomp your ass!", and pointing over his friends shoulder. Beth knew the man holding him back had to be a friend. The one screaming would have already leveled him if he wasn't.

She remembered his eyes. They were dark and hard, on fire with his temper. And those arms! She had never really noticed a man's arms before, but great day, how could you not notice arms like his. His hair was shorter then, but the brush of facial hair the same as it is now. She watched the chaos unfold through her daddy's glass walls entranced by the man in the sleeves shirt and leather vest.

When her daddy, Chief Greene, finally joined her in his office, she looked to him for an explanation. "That's Detective Dixon. The man holding him back is his partner, Detective Grimes. The man he's pointin' and wailin' at is Detective Walsh."

"What's he so mad about?" she asked without turning away from the man in question.

"Detective Walsh promised a confidential informant protection that he couldn't deliver. We found the CI washed up on the bank of the Chattahoochee this morning."

"Was the CI a friend of his?"

"I don't think so. Detective Dixon, and Grimes too for that matter, are rare."

Beth turned to look at her father.

"They care."

Beth had grown up around the business of police work. She knew there were good cops, and she knew there were bad cops. She also knew that rarely, there were great cops and dirty cops. If her daddy said these two were rare, she believed him. On her way to the elevator, long after Daryl and Rick had gone, she ran into Detective Shane Walsh. She realized very quickly that he was not a man she wanted to know. He was forward and suggestive, and it only got worse when he put two and two together and realized just whose daughter she was.

Things got especially bad after she joined Intelligence and started spending all of her free time with Daryl. Daryl and Walsh shared a mutual dislike for the other. The Unit had gathered at Lincoln's, a local cop bar, where they liked to go and unwind after a tough case. Beth was playing darts when she heard Daryl's voice over the thinning crowd. "You better watch your mouth, Sunshine!"

She turned just in time to see Daryl wipe the smirk off of Walsh's face with a tooth rattling right hook. Daryl wouldn't tell her what it was all about, but she found out later, from Rick, that Walsh had made some inappropriate comments about her. He didn't elaborate and Beth didn't ask, but she could just imagine what was said. The next time she saw Walsh, she walked right up to him and slapped him hard across the face. She hadn't had any more trouble out of him since Daryl had shut him up at the bar, but she still felt like she needed her say in the matter just the same, and a slap seemed to drive her point home just fine.

Daryl lay perfectly still, his eyes never leaving hers. The early morning sun cast Beth in an ethereal glow that highlighted the gold in her hair. " 'M sorry," he mumbled.

Beth frowned and tucked her hand under her cheek. He missed her touch immediately. "For what?"

"I acted like a stupid ass jerk... before... when you said you was leavin'"

"Oh." She had to calm her racing heart. She was sure he had been about to apologize for kissing her, for inviting her into his bed.

"I jus'... I never wanted anything before... Never needed nobody, 'least not until you showed up... Then when ya' said you was leavin'...," he shrugged and looked away from her. "It hurt, ya' know?"

"I do know. It hurt like hell losing you."

His eyes shot back to hers. "I'm sorry too," she said. "I still regret walkin' away from you that night. I should 'a never left like that."

Beth had finally cornered him, one week after he had kissed her and two weeks before she was set to leave for Quantico. She had driven out to his little house just outside of Atlanta and banged on the door until he finally answered.

"What!" he barked when he opened the door.

"You're gonna' tell me what the hell's goin' on with you, that's what!" she had fired right back at him.

"Hell you talkin' about?"

"Oh no you don't, Daryl Dixon! We've come way too far for that. You can't just kiss me and then turn around and avoid me for a week."

"You kissed me, princess," he spat.

Beth drew in a breath and tried to get a handle on her temper. "Daryl," she started, "we're friends first, right?" He didn't answer, but Beth carried on anyway. "Look, maybe we could just forget about the other night and get back to how things used to be."

"You done slummin' it then?"

Beth reeled back from him as if she had been punched. Quick, ragged breaths racked her chest and her hands balled into fists by her sides. "That what you think," she asked around the lump in her throat.

"What do you want from me, girl?"

"I want you to stop actin' like you don't give a crap about anythin'. Like nothin' we went through matters. It's bullshit, and you know it!"

"Only bullshit I hear 's comin' from your mouth. Maybe I'm done with _you. _ You ever think 'bout that?"

The soft, desperate cry that escaped from her chest nearly took him to his knees, but the walls he had worked so hard to build for most of his life, the ones that Beth had been chipping away at for the last year, were still too tall for him to see past, especially when his breaking heart was pulling him under.

Beth knew he was hurting. She knew that her leaving didn't set well with him. She had seen it in his eyes when she told him that she had been accepted to Quantico. She also knew how surly he could get when he was riled up, but this... the things he was spouting off at her... they hurt. They hurt like hell, and once you hurt Beth's feelings, she was done with you.

"Screw you! Your stupid ass is gonna' miss me so bad when I'm gone."

"What makes ya' think I'll miss you, huh? What makes you think I care?"

"You don't mean that," she whispered, her voice thick with hurt.

"You don't know nothin' about me." His voice was so full of disdain that Beth's response died on her lips. She just didn't have it in her to fight with him like this. If he didn't care, she would just have to accept that fact and move on. She spun on her heels and stomped to her jeep without so much as a second glance. The blood was rushing so loudly in her ears that she completely missed his desperate "Beth..." as she slammed the door.

"Nah, you had ever right to leave. I said some terrible things to you that night... You gotta' know though. I didn't mean 'em."

Beth smiled at him tenderly. "I do now."

Daryl tucked a stray curl behind her ear and threaded his hand through her hair giving her a gentle tug. She flowed to him like water pooling on top of him when he rolled to his back. Her lips connected with his, peppering him with quick playful kisses. He drug his hand across her rear to the small of her back and snugged her against him. She responded with a long languid kiss, teasing his mouth open with her tongue on his lower lip. The hand in her hair pulled her harder against him. Beth wrapped her leg around his and pressed her core against his thigh. A soft mew emanated from her lips when she felt the pressure from his leg right where she needed it most.

Daryl rolled them and settled on top of her never breaking their heated kiss. Beth drug her thigh up his side and bent her knee at his hip arching into him. He set to work on her neck leaving a trail of fire in his wake as he drug his tongue to her collar bone. Every nerve ending in her body tingled, delightfully igniting all of her senses.

His nose ghosted between her breasts, and his hands slid up her sides dragging her sleep tank with them. When his lips landed on her belly and his tongue slipped below the waistband of her thin cotton shorts, it was both too much and not enough. Her hands flew to his head and tangled in his hair, fingers scraping against his scalp.

_"Daryl_," she said, keening his name and trembling beneath him.

Daryl suddenly remembered his promise. Her first time wasn't gonna' be in no damn hotel room, not if he could help it. With great effort, more than any man should have to muster, Daryl pulled her shirt back down from where it lay bunched just below her breasts and lifted himself up to hover over her. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils were blown. "Damn, Beth. What are ya' doin' to me, girl?"

Before she could answer, the shrill ring of his cell phone had them both jumping. Daryl pinned her beneath him as he reached across to grab the phone. "Yeah."

She giggled at his gruff greeting and Daryl shot her a playfully annoyed scowl.

"Nah, I'm up. What ya' got?"

Beth scooted out from underneath him and headed back to her room. As much as she would have enjoyed spending the day in bed with Daryl, because clearly the man had talents she knew nothing about before this morning, they had a job to do, and today that job included investigative work in Mansfield, Pennsylvania.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think! All comments, criticisms, and suggestions are greatly appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 10: We Should Tear it Down

**A/N: So this chapter was intended to introduce you to Delores, but I got a little (a lot) distracted by a Beth and Daryl flashback. Guess Delores will have to wait! Thanks for reading!**

**Chpt 10: We Should Tear it Down**

Thirty minutes outside of Scranton, Daryl stopped to fill up the rental car. Beth watched him through her side view mirror. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark gray button down. The top two buttons were left invitingly undone, and his sleeves were rolled up exposing tan, muscular forearms. He squinted into the cold, late October wind. When he turned to check the pump, he caught her watching him in the mirror and smirked. Busted, Beth rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the heat rising up her neck and across her cheeks. She popped out of the passenger side. "I'm gonna' grab a water. You want anythin'?"

"Yeah, I'll take a sweet tea, thanks."

Daryl watched her walk toward the station. She was wearing gray slacks and a pink, fitted turtle neck sweater. It hugged her in all the right places. Her beauty was timeless, unobstructed by heavy make-up or pretense. Her hair hung loose in long waves that bounced when she walked. The subtle sashay in her hips was driving him to distraction and making his jeans just a little tight. He swallowed hard against a dry throat and turned his face into the Pennsylvania wind, hoping it might cool him off.

Beth could see him watching her through the reflection in the glass door. "Hah! You're as bad as I am," she mused.

On her way back to the car, she stopped to answer her phone, deciding to ignore the call instead when she saw the caller ID. Zach would just have to wait.

"You thought anymore 'bout visitin' with your family while we're here?" Daryl asked.

A hopeful gleam sparked in Beth's eyes. "It would be nice to see them."

"Lock Haven ain't that far from Mansfield. Maybe we could head that way when we're done."

"Maybe," she said hesitantly. "I mean... It would be nice, but you don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

"I want to," he said and glanced in her direction. She was frowning and it seemed like maybe she had something she wanted to say. That's when it hit him. " 'less you don't want me to come."

"No," she said and shook her head. Hurt flashed in Daryl's eyes. "I mean yes!"

"It's a'right. I don't gotta' go."

"No! That's not what I meant. Let me start over," she said and steadied herself with a deep breath. "Yes, I want you to come with me. It's just... my aunt... I told her about you. I used to talk to her about you, before, when we worked together. She knew how I felt... how things went with us. She also knows that we're working together on this case. I just wasn't sure how to introduce you, you know? I didn't want things to be awkward. Then last night happened and... I want you to meet them. I want them to meet you..."

"You sure," he asked sincerely.

"I'm positive," she said. "When my mother died, Aunt Deanna came and stayed with us for a couple of months. That's when we got to be so close. I talk to her about everything... like I would my mama if she was still around."

Daryl reached for her hand and pulled it over, fingers intertwined, to rest on his leg. "Mansfield then Lock Haven. It's settled." The smile that blossomed across her face nearly stole his breath. He wanted to be the one responsible for that smile for the rest of his life.

~TWD~

"The Protective Services office is located in the court house at the town square. It should be right up here," she pointed. Daryl pulled the car to a stop in front of a beautiful historical building built out of deep red brick. A marker in front commemorated "the incorporation of Mansfield in 1857 as planned and established by Asa Mann in 1804."

"There's so much history in this part of the country."

"Hmmm," Daryl agreed.

"The only thing I know about Mansfield is that people claim that the very first night time football game, ever, was played here under electric lights on September 28, 1892," she said very matter-of-factly.

"That so?" he said with a smirk

Beth caught the look and grinned. "My aunt is a history professor and my mom's birthday was September 28th so the factoid stuck." She shrugged and spun on her heels. He watched as she trotted up the courthouse steps. A warmth settled in his heart, and it nearly had him swaying with the weight of all he was feeling.

Inside the Protective Services office, Beth and Daryl were directed to Mr. Charles Craig. Mr. Craig had been the office's senior representative for longer than anyone could say. While he didn't remember Gareth West in particular, he was happy to pull the file and take a look, especially when Beth produced the federal court order.

"Let's see," he said as he plopped down into his chair and pulled on his reading glasses. "Gareth William West entered the system as a three year old when his mother passed away. Grandmother gave up custody rights. No father of record. No other immediate family. Looks like he was sent to foster care until the age of six when he was sent to the Tioga County Military Academy."

"He was sent to military school?" Beth asked, shocked.

"Children are rarely adopted past the age of five, especially boys. It's a sad fact, but it's true, Agent Greene. Tioga county houses ten boroughs and twenty-nine townships. Each year, all male foster children ages six through nine in the county are given a standardized test to asses their aptitude for science, math, and reading. Five children are granted a scholarship to the academy based on their scores. Mr. West was one of those children."

Beth sat speechless with a firm scowl in place. "I assure you, Agent Greene, Tioga County Military Academy is a fine place for a boy to grow and learn. He received a premier education at no charge. That, coupled with military discipline, is exactly what a boy with no family and no connections needs. He was blessed to have that opportunity."

Daryl could see Beth's temper rising like the color on her cheeks. "Any trouble at the military school?"

"That I would not know."

~TWD~

At the Tioga County Military Academy, Beth and Daryl met with Ms. Eleanor Langston, secretary to Retired Major General Reginald Flannigan, headmaster. She had the file ready and waiting when they arrived.

"You can use the conference room across the hall," she said and escorted them through two heavy oak doors.

Military swords and ancient guns encased in shadowbox frames hung along the walls. A river stone fireplace decorated the entire far wall. The conference room table was made of heavy wood and ornately carved. Beth bet six men with arms like Daryl's couldn't lift it. The thick exposed beams overhead muffed the echoes of their footsteps and skewed the acoustics so that conversation settled in the center of the antique war room. Beth wondered what secrets it held.

Daryl spread the contents of the file on the table. "Graduation photo," he said holding up a 5x7 of a young, dark haired cadet in uniform.

Beth reached for the photo. _"What happened to you,"_ she wondered as she studied the boy in front of her. His features were pleasant enough, dark skin with an olive tint, strong jaw line, and just enough baby fat left that you could see both the boy he was and the man he was becoming. Beth laid the photo to the side and perused the papers in front of her.

His grades were excellent earning him multiple academic accommodations. There were copies of letters of recommendation written on his behalf by instructors at the academy. Each letter described West in much the same way: disciplined, intelligent, and hardworking.

"Daryl, look at this," Beth said. "They must keep bank accounts here on campus. There's three years worth of statements here. No activity, but he still has $10,000.00 in an active account."

Daryl squinted over her shoulder, and Beth tried to tame the butterflies that took flight low in her gut. "Where the hell did a ward of the state get $10,000?"

"Good question."

He leaned in and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Be right back."

Beth continued to look through the papers in front of her trying to get a better sense of the boy in the photo. When did that boy become the man they were hunting, and how did it happen?

Daryl stuck his head in the door. "We're headin' to the campus credit union."

Ms. Langston turned them over to Morris Atherton, CPA. He had been in charge of the credit union for nearly thirty years. He was a rotund gentleman, quite obviously not from a military background, and eager to help. He seemed very pleased to meet Beth in particular. "Yes, I remember Mr. West. He received $5000 in cash, via certified mail, every June, since he first arrived."

"That's $60,000," Daryl surmised. "Lot 'a money."

"West was born in June. I saw it in his file," Beth said. "Someone must have sent him birthday money every year."

"I'm not sure about that, but I remember his deposits. Very few students stay here over the summer therefore there is very little activity during those months."

Beth looked at the most recent statement from Mr. Atherton. "Mr. West withdrew $54,000, everything he had, at graduation. $10,000 was deposited into his account the following June. Who opened the letter and made the deposit?"

"It would have been signed and opened by the headmaster then sent on to me."

"Mr. Atherton," Beth said in that sweet voice of hers, "any chance you still have the letter?"

"It's likely that I do, Ms. Greene. We keep things like that in a lockbox just in case a cadet returns for their lost and found."

"Could we see it, please."

"Of course. I'll be right back," he said with a wink.

Daryl smirked at her when Mr. Atherton headed toward the back.

"What?" she said and batted her eyes playfully.

Mr. Atherton returned holding two bright blue envelopes in his pudgy hands. Beth took them carefully from him, touching the envelopes with only the tip of her finger and thumb. "Postmarked Atlanta," she said, her voice stilted with the implication. "Mr. Atherton, do you have a ziplock bag or maybe a paper sack we could put these in, please?"

Beth's phone rang on the way back to the car. Daryl listened to the one sided conversation and figured that Professor Morgan's secretary had found the ID badge with Gareth's West's picture on it, and that they would be retrieving it as soon as they made it back to Scranton.

"We have a recent photo," Beth said, but there was no excitement in her voice.

"What're ya' thinkin'?"

"I think Blake is the Atlanta connection. I think he sent that money and we need to know why."

"Yep. Where to?"

"I think we need to visit the grandmother. I have her last known address in Mansfield."

Daryl nodded, glad they were thinkin' the same thing. He punched the rental in gear and they hit the road. It had taken them twenty minutes to get to the academy in Blossburg. It took them ten to make it back to Mansfield. Beth, however, was oblivious to time or place, so lost in her own thoughts. "What's the house number," she heard Daryl ask somewhat distantly in her brain.

"What?"

"House number. We're on Lee Street."

"Oh," she answered and grabbed her notepad. "It's 122."

The houses on Lee Street had seen better days. Most of them were in a general state of disarray, needing paint, gutter repair, and, in short, basic upkeep and attention. The yellow house at 122 was no exception. The wooden steps leading to the front porch had long ago collapsed. In their stead, someone had fashioned a ramp out of a single piece of plywood.

"Looks like my old neighborhood," he said with a hint of sadness. "Wonder if they got a moonshine shack out back," he then mused with a smirk.

Beth laughed at that, thinking back to the one and only time she had ever been drunk. When Merle died, she had gone with Daryl to his brother's place to sort through his things. Merle had taken over his parents place when the brothers' father had finally passed away. There really hadn't been much to salvage outside of a motorcycle, a few tools, his mama's wedding ring, and a stash of moonshine in a little shed outback.

Daryl opened one of the mason jars and took a swig. His nerves were raw with the sudden loss of his brother and with all the things that had never been said between them. He passed the jar to Beth. She sniffed it, wrinkled her nose in protest, and passed it back to Daryl.

"You ever had moonshine before?"

"Ah, no. A peach drink with dinner at Outback is all I can confess too."

"Want some," he said and passed the jar back to her.

Beth smelled it again and looked at Daryl. The smirk he wore sparked her determination. and she tossed the moonshine back defiantly. Fire scalded her throat and chest. Her eyes went impossibly wide and she doubled over coughing and gagging against the burn.

"Shit, Beth!," Daryl said tossing the crate of moonshine to the side and grabbing Beth around the shoulders. "You can't just toss that stuff back like that... You a'right?"

Beth rested her palms on her knees and tried to catch her breath. When she spoke, her voice was rough and choked. "Damn that hurt."

"No shit."

After a moment of coughing and spewing, Beth stood to her full height and sucked in a deep breath. She snorted when she saw Daryl looking at her as if she might spontaneously combust.

"I'm fine. Hand me that jar."

Daryl scowled at her, quietly refusing her request.

"Oh for Pete's sake, Daryl," she said and reached around him. "You gonna' drink with me or not?"

He watch her swallow down the tiniest sip and lick her lips when she was done. He wasn't quite sure what to think of his petite little friend. She certainly never failed to surprise him.

When the few belongings that Merle owned were sorted into a junk pile and a donation pile, Beth and Daryl loaded them up in the pickup. Beth climbed up into the bed of the truck and Daryl passed her the last of the boxes. Hands on her hips, she studied the pile. Satisfied with their work, she turned toward Daryl and stretched both arms out to him. He reached for her instantly and lowered her to him. Beth had just enough alcohol buzzing through her system to make her uncharacteristically brave when it came to the opposite sex, Daryl in particular. She giggled when her feet hit the ground and slid her arms behind his neck. "Thank you, Mr. Dixon."

The tips of Daryl's ears turned red, but he kept his hands locked on Beth's tiny waist. She tilted her head and smiled contentedly, swaying back and forth in his arms like a leaf in the breeze.

"You're a happy drunk," Daryl teased, and Beth giggled again. She inched closer to him, her eyes bouncing back and forth between his. When her gaze slipped to his lips, and her fingers feathered through his hair, Daryl summoned every bit of control that he could, and stepped back from her. He wasn't about to take advantage of a moonshine tipsy Beth, no matter what his heart wanted.

"Best make one more sweep 'a the place," he mumbled and deftly stepped around her toward the house.

It was early evening, and the cicadas were singing when they finally settled on the dilapidated front porch. Beth sat across from him leaning on a post, smiling like a cat that just ate all the cream.

"So you grew up in this house?"

"Nah, we lived a few blocks over. First house caught on fire. Burned to the ground."

The smile slid from Beth's face, but there was no pity in her eyes. Even buzzed on moonshine, she knew that wasn't what he needed. "Was anyone home when it happened?"

"Yeah. Me and my mom," he said. "She dropped her smoke and passed out on the couch. Place lit up like a torch."

"Where were you?"

"Asleep in my bed. The fire woke me up. Sounded like somethin' wild... roarin' lIke a unholy beast or some shit. Hotter 'n hell. I tried to get to her, my mom, but 's too late." He spoke so softly, Beth had to lean toward him to hear. "Had to go out my bedroom window. Couldn't see. Couldn't breath."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"I'm sorry," she said, but there was no pity nor sympathy in her words, only genuine empathy for a little boy who lost his mama too soon.

Daryl shrugged it off. "Shit happens," he said with finality and Beth didn't push. She never pushed, yet he found himself, more often than not, opening up to her anyway and saying more than he meant to. Much to his surprise, he realized that he never regretted telling her anything. She never judged him, never used it against him. He guessed that's why the rest of his story flew from his mouth unbidden.

"Things got bad once we moved in here. Merle left, and it was just me and my old man."

"That when you got those scars?"

Daryl's head shot up. If looks could kill, Beth would have been dead where she sat. "What the hell you know 'bout my scars?"

It was all she could do not to scurry back from that glare, but she knew he would never hurt her. "I saw 'em once... the ones on your back. You were splittin' wood behind the garage at your place. The radio was turned up, so you didn't hear me. I went back to my truck, and I honked to let you know I was there. When I came back around, you were still chopin' wood, but you had your t-shirt on. I figured you tell about it when you were ready. Hoped maybe you could trust me with it someday."

"I do trust ya'," he heard himself say, "but them scars ain't nobody's business but mine."

"You're right. They're yours to carry, and I'm not askin' you to tell me about 'em. It's just... Well, I guess I feel like I've been lyin' to ya', not lettin' you know I saw 'em."

He couldn't figure her out. They had been close for near on a year and she was still a mystery. A beautiful enigma that he found himself trusting completely. Before he realized what he was doing, he was unloading the secret burden he had carried his entire life. "He used to take me to the shed, beat the shit out 'a me with his belt. After my mom died, there wadn't nobody around to stop him..."

They sat in companionable silence, content just being there together. Beth stretched her leg out and nudged Daryl with the tip of her Chuck Taylor's. "We should tear it down. Take those big sledge hammers we found, and beat that shed to the ground."

Daryl studied her for a moment while he chewed on the inside of his lip. She just sat there smilin' at him, eyes bright and wide, waiting patiently for his decision. Those eyes followed him when he popped up from the porch floor and held out a hand to her. "Better get started 'for it gets too late, and we wake up the whole damn neighborhood."

Beth's entire face lit up, and Daryl's heart stuttered in his chest. She took his hand and he hauled her up. He overestimated her weight and ended up pulling her tight into his chest. Beth landed against him with a resounding "umph". The sweetest giggle bubbled up from her chest and her forehead landed softly right over his heart. She threaded her fingers through his and stepped back, pulling him with her down the stairs and around the back to the shed.

They spent the next two hours smashing walls, destroying bad memories, and banishing ghosts. When the last wall fell, Beth stepped back and flipped the whole mess off. Daryl was breathing hard, letting go of all the shed represented when Beth gently smacked him with her elbow and silently demanded that he join her in sending the whole thing to hell. He flicked his eyes back to the pile of rubble and felt a tug at the corner of his lip. When Daryl at last flipped the pile of wood and memories off and made his peace, he took Beth's hand and led her back to the pick-up. He felt a thousand pounds lighter, all because of her, and he knew, in that moment, that his heart was no longer his own.

A/N: So not the most exciting chapter, but hang in there, the next one is kind of fun! Thanks for reading. Oh, and, I'm just gonna' say it... Please Review! ;)


	11. Chapter 11: Deloris

**A/N: So this is one of those chapters that is necessary to move the story/case along. Hang with me! More sexy times in the next chapter. Promise! Thanks for reading!**

**Chpt 11: Deloris**

Daryl hopped up onto the porch and turned to help Beth. She took his outstretched hand and started up the makeshift ramp. When it rocked back and forth over the single support beam that held it, Daryl lifted her effortlessly to him. He stopped to enjoy the feel of her pressed against him before letting her go with a ghost of a smile.

Beth knocked on the door and listened for any noise from inside while Daryl peaked in the front window. Deloris West flung open the door wearing a pink velour sweatsuit, holding a thin Virginia Slim between her lips. She quickly sized up Beth, head to toe, and turned her full attention to Daryl. A smooth, come hither smile spread wide across her face.

"_Oh shit_," Daryl thought. He had grown up with women like Deloris. At sixteen, his next door neighbor, Ms. Veda Womble, had offered more than once to be his own personal Mrs. Robinson. Daryl had politely declined.

"Deloris Williams?" Beth asked.

The brassy blonde answered without so much as a second glance Beth's way. "That's right. Who's asking?"

"I'm Agent Beth Greene with the FBI, and this is Detective Daryl Dixon..."

"Pleased to meet you," Deloris said shifting to one hip and securing her cigarette safely between two fingers. Her other hand shot past Beth toward Daryl, extended as if she were accepting a ring and a proposal from the man. Daryl grabbed her fingertips and shook them awkwardly before dropping her hand and shoving his deep in his pockets. Undaunted, Deloris raked her eyes over Daryl's physique and licked her lips approvingly. She stepped down onto the porch and settled herself a little too close to Daryl. He could smell the liquor on her breath. "What can I do for you, Detective," she purred.

"Got a few questions for ya' 'bout your daughter and your grandson."

She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips, mulling over his request. "I like the way you sound. Your accent, I mean," she said in her best seductive slur. "I bet you're a real southern gentleman, aren't you? I'll tell you what," she whispered and patted his chest lightly with one hand. "I'll tell you everything you want to know," Deloris said, "for a small fee."

Daryl answered with a hum and ventured a glance at Beth who stood behind Deloris with one neatly plucked eyebrow arched into her hairline and a bemused smile on her lips.

_"This ought to be good_," Beth thought to herself.

Deloris sidled up closer to Daryl, so close that she was now leaning into him. Her other hand snaked up his bicep and landed on his shoulder. Beth suspected that Daryl was likely the only thing keeping Deloris upright at the moment. "Why don't you send your little friend over there to the corner store. Have her pick me up a case of something cold. The good stuff. And maybe a carton or two of Virginia Slims. Me and you can go in and talk. I'll answer any - question - you - want - to - ask," she said and walked her fingers up his chest to the rhythm of her words.

"Ms. West," Daryl started and gently sat her back on her heels.

"Deloris, honey. Call me Deloris," she teased and leaned against him again. "Don't look so worried, Detective. I don't bite. I just want to listen to you talk a little more. Besides, my offer is nonnegotiable."

Daryl looked at Beth half exasperated and half apologetic, but she understood. She stuck her hand out for the keys and gave Daryl a reassuring smile. "Beer and cigarettes. Anything else Ms. West?"

"Now that you mention it, why don't you bring me a couple of Kitkat bars too. I just love those things," she said over her shoulder.

Beth's smile was all sugar and molasses. "Kitkat bars. Yes, m'am."

Beth hopped off the porch and Daryl, reluctantly, followed Deloris inside. As bad as the outside of the house appeared, the inside was worse. It smelled like stale cigarettes, strong liquor, and hard living. Old White Castle bags and empty beer cans littered the floor and the coffee table. Daryl sat on the edge of a fold-out chair across from Deloris.

"You'll have to excuse the mess, Detective," she said around her cigarette. "My maid has the day off."

"I got a few questions about your daughter, if you don't mind," Daryl said trying to keep Deloris on topic.

"Not much to tell. She's been dead for twenty years or more."

" 'm sorry for your loss."

"No loss. She was crazy. Just like her father. They're both better off."

"Your daughter, Misty, she killed herself?"

"Yep," Deloris said and blew three perfectly formed smoke rings from her candy apple red lips. "Took a whole mess of pills right there in that bathroom," she said pointing down the hall. Any emotion that might have been present on her face was well hidden behind a cloud of smoke.

"Any idea why she did it?"

"Hell if I know. She started hearing voices, same as my husband. His started when he got back from Vietnam. I was sixteen when Misty was born. Dewey was home three weeks before he lost it. Four months later the bastard killed himself, and I was stuck raising that girl on my own."

Daryl watched Deloris and stayed quiet, certain she had more she wanted to say. He felt bad for her, really. Seemed like the cards she'd been dealt weren't all that different than his. Best he figured, his life could have turned out vastly different had it not been for his best friend Rick and the influence he and his family had on him as a teenager. Thank God for everyday miracles.

When Deloris at last spoke again, her voice was soft and distant. "Misty was a good girl. She worked hard, made good grades in school. She even went to junior college. Got a two year degree in office work or something. She was so pretty back then."

"She get work 'round here?"

"No. She moved to Allentown with two of her friends. Got a job at a coffee shop downtown." Deloris took a long, steadying drag from her cigarette. "She started dating a man that worked across the street. An agent of some kind. Misty loved those damn James Bond movies. He came in the coffee shop every morning. That's where they met. She got herself knocked up. Told him as much, and he left her. Turns out he was being transferred and didn't want to take her with him. He sent her money though. Misty got a regular check for the kid. He sent more on the boy's birthday every year."

"You ever meet him?"

"Hell no. He was way to good to come around here, honey."

"You know his name?"

"Nope. All she ever said was that the boy had his daddy's eyes. Looked like demon eyes to me. They used to change color with his mood. Gave me the damn heebie jeebies, but Misty loved them."

"They live with you?"

"She used to dump him here when she set off on a tare. After she died, they asked me if I wanted to raise him," Deloris said. She sounded sad, almost regretful. "I couldn't do it, you know? I'd already raised my girl... watched her and her daddy die too... I just couldn't do it again. You understand, right?"

Daryl answered with a noncommittal grunt and pressed on. "You remember her roommates' names, any names from that time?"

"That was a long time ago, honey. Look, I don't want to answer any more questions right now," she whined. She stood up, dropped her cigarette butt in an empty beer can and lit another one. She sashayed from the couch to Daryl and drug one long, scarlet nail across his shoulders. Daryl bolted from his chair when she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "What do you drink, sailor?"

"Daryl!" he heard from the front yard. Deloris snorted at the relief that spread across his face. Daryl, for his part, headed toward the door. He collected Deloris's loot from Beth, mumbling something about gettin' the hell out of there, and deposited it all just inside, hoping to make a quick escape. Deloris, however, had other ideas. She followed him onto the porch.

"You leaving so soon?"

"We have a few more stops to make, but we thank you for your time," Beth said sweetly.

"You have a card? You know, in case I think of something else," she slurred, never taking her eyes from Daryl. When she stroked his bicep one more time, Beth would have laughed out loud had Daryl not reminded her so much of a deer in the headlights right then.

"Think we got all we need," he grumbled and backed away from Deloris as if she might lung forward and eat him up.

Daryl jumped gracefully from the porch and headed to the car with Beth.

"How did it go with Deloris," she asked playfully.

"Scary lady," he said as he opened the car door for her.

"What d'ya find out," she asked as Daryl pulled away from the curb leaving Deloris behind.

"Daughter heard voices. So did her pops. Hers started after West was born."

"Maybe she was schizophrenic," Beth postulated. "It's an inherited disorder. If that's the case, there's a good chance Gareth is schizophrenic too. It usually shows up in young adult hood, typically with a trauma or a stressor. There's usually a trigger."

"Like havin' a baby and gettin' left behind?"

"That would certainly do it," Beth agreed. "She say anythin' else?"

Daryl hesitated and shot a sideways glance at Beth. "What," she asked with a worried frown.

"Said she hooked up with an agent in Allentown. Got her pregnant and left her on a transfer."

Beth's face paled as everything she had been trying so hard to deny suddenly became crystal clear. "He's the father."

Daryl had his eyes on the road. " 'ats what I'm thinkin'."

"Pull over," she demanded, sounding frantic.

"What's wrong," he asked as he slowed the car.

"Just pull over, please," she said with a shaky voice. Daryl pulled off to the side of the road and Beth threw open the door. She charged to the back of the car and leaned over, using the trunk for support. _"In through your nose, out through your mouth_," she repeated over and over in her mind as her stomach rolled, and bile rose to her throat.

Daryl approached her cautiously, not exactly sure what to say or do. He had never been very good at offering comfort. Hell, he didn't reckon he had ever had the opportunity. "Beth..."

Her head shot up, eyes impossibly wide. "Blake is Gareth's father. What am I supposed to do with that. Daryl?" She looked at him like he should have all the answers.

"I don't know yet, but we'll figure it out," he said sincerely.

Beth ran her hand through the top of her hair and squeezed her eyes shut. "Hey...," Daryl said and waited for her to look at him. "Beth," he tried again and pulled her hand down into his. He bent to catch her eyes. "We'll figure this out," he said again, with conviction. Beth drew in a deep breath and nodded once. Daryl stepped closer and placed a calloused but gentle hand on each side of her face. He was her touchstone and she trusted him. If he believed that they would figure this out then so did she.

~TWD~

Sophia woke with a start and cried out against the pain radiating from her feet and legs. She had kicked, punched, bit, and screamed at him while he sat on top of her chest, pinning her to the floor, focusing his rage on her calves, thighs, ankles, and feet. When she thought she could take no more, he had walked away without a word, breathing heavily with his efforts. Sophia closed her eyes against the pain and let her tears flow freely. She tried to skitter away when he returned moments later and squatted next to her. With gentle strokes, he wiped the tears from her cheeks and smoothed her hair back from her eyes. He gave her a warm sympathetic smile before he turned his attention back to her feet. She was so confused by his sudden change in demeanor that it barely registered what he had in his hand before he slid the needle between her toes and she felt the burn from the injection. Sweet relief soon followed as she drifted into an anesthetic sleep.

How long she had been out was anybody's guess. She remembered thinking that she would surely never wake up again. A part of her welcomed the thought. But here she was, still alive, still trapped in this man's twisted reality with little to no hope of escape.

In the small, outer room, her captor stared at the photographs that covered the wall. There were so many women. What a horrible mission he and his team had been tasked with. He had to remind himself that his work, though thankless and done in secret, was noble and just. An agent's work was his life, a selfless undertaking for the greater good.

Each of these women has been responsible for the pain and anguish of an innocent, their individual crimes unforgivable and punishable by death. He trusted his assignment, knew what had to be done, but a part of him always wondered what exactly these women were guilty of. His boss had warned him that, should he accept this mission, his orders were never to be questioned. The files on the young women were classified. Someday he would have clearance, a reward for a job well done.

He looked at photos of the women from Pennsylvania. His first assignment had been to follow and survey them. He was to track their movements and photograph them in their day to day activity. He was instructed to turn the information over to Agent Adam Milliken via PO Box on the university campus, the same box where he received the coded assignments that only he could decipher. He remembered meeting Agent Milliken the first time. What an honor it was to be recruited by such an elite organization. The agents were everywhere, blending into everyday life with such ease. A nod here, the tip of a chin there, he understood what they were saying with their silent "_ 'at a boy_" so often exactly when he needed it most. He looked forward to the day when he would be brought into the inner circle, the day when he would be the one encouraging a new agent in his or her mission.

Six months after his first assignment, the entire operation was moved to Virginia. He was so pleased to have been asked to join them. He was again tasked with gathering Intel on a specific few women. He had struggled a little with Michelle wondering how someone so lovely could be as evil as Agent Millikan reported. He had explained, however, that that was her game. She used her beauty and charm to deceive and to destroy.

The work in Greensboro had been difficult. It was hot and the heat seemed to make the headaches worse. They had gotten so bad at one point that chunks of time just seemed to disappear as if they had never truly existed for him at all. Roanoke had been just as tough..

Now, here in Atlanta, where everyone moved at break neck speed, he faced his toughest assignment yet. Somehow this fourth woman, the one he had most recently been tracking, had set an army on the inner circle. Agent Millikan said that no agents had been harmed in the shootout at their secret location, a testament to the skill and favor of the elite men he worked for. The first woman he had photographed in Atlanta, Melissa, however, had been killed. It was a blow to the investigation, losing the information that Melissa took to the grave with her, but the men were certain now that girl number four was the big fish they had been hunting. She had even helped the third woman on their list to escape. Their man in the field had cornered the second and third woman on their wanted list together. He had successfully brought in the one, but the other had run. The operation had moved so quickly after Melissa was killed, that he hadn't even been tasked with photographing the second and third woman. It was pure luck, or maybe blessing, that the two had surfaced so soon after the first was killed. He had heard that an agent had been harmed in the third woman's escape, but a full recovery was expected.

He ran his hand over the 8x10 he had taken of the fourth woman outside of her apartment. She looked so young and sweet, all blue eyes and blonde hair like the rest of the women, but there was just something about her. She seemed different than the others. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was, but she made him question his assignment for the first time since his work with the agency began. He loved photographing her and, even though his work was not about beauty or artistry, he just seemed to take great pictures when she was the subject. He wondered what they would do to her to extract whatever information they needed from her before justice was done. As he trailed his fingers over her smiling face, he heard a familiar voice from somewhere deep in his mind. "_Her time is coming_," it mused as a flash of pain ran across the top of his head nearly ripping him in half.

~TWD~

Beth accessed Misty West's autopsy report from her tablet in the car. It confirmed what Beth had suspected. Misty was indeed schizophrenic. The tox report listed several antipsychotics including Clozapine, Thorazine, Asenapine, Olanzapine, and Risperidone present in her system at elevated levels, sufficient to cause death. "All of these meds are used to treat schizophrenia, just not all at the same time. Thorazine would have been prescribed for acute psychotic episodes as would Asenapine, but not together. Olanzapine is a maintenance drug. It could have been used with Risperidone for generalized anxiety. In the late eighties, early nineties, Clozapine would have only been prescribed for refractory schizophrenia."

Daryl was impressed. She was always surprising him. Not that he didn't already know, beyond any doubt, that she was smart and beautiful and tough and sweet and he could go on and on, but he trusted her and respected her more than any other person on the planet. In short, she made him happy and, much to his disbelief, he seemed to make her happy too. Damn if he wasn't completely whipped and glad to be so. Somewhere in the middle of his musings, he must have smiled, and Beth being Beth, called him on it.

"You're smiling."

"What?"

"I said 'you're smiling'. What're you thinkin' 'bout," she asked as she reached across to play with the hair hanging down over his neck.

"You," he said with a hint of pride.

"Schizophrenia makes you think of me? Not sure I'm flattered Mr. Dixon."

Daryl cut his eyes at her. "Where'd you learn all that stuff about schizophrenia and shit?"

"Double major. Psychology and Criminal Justice."

"Hmmm. So his mom's problems were pretty severe?"

"Looks that way."

Daryl was relieved to hear Beth's voice steady and confident again. The autopsy report had given her something more to think about than Blake and his personal involvement in this case. "What exactly is it... schizophrenia," he asked intent on keeping her focus away from her friend.

"It's a mental disorder that makes it impossible to tell the difference between what's real and what isn't. Schizophrenics have hallucinations that are as intricate and multifaceted as real life. They aren't just isolated events either. They tend to integrate the reality they create into their real life and it can last for years and years and years. The hallucinations are usually accompanied by paranoia or bizarre delusions. There's no cure, but medication helps. Did you see that Russell Crowe movie, ' A Beautiful Mind' ?"

"UhUh"

"We can stream it. It's a true story about a professor with schizophrenia... great movie. I watched it in college. It's absolutely amazing what cour minds are capable of."

"Merle had a friend with multiple personalities. Never knew who the hell you were talkin' to when he was around. That part of it?"

"Not usually, but it can happen. Multiple personality disorder isn't inherited. Happens a lot with sustained trauma like sexual abuse or extreme physical abuse. Unfortunately, children of schizophrenics a lot of times grow up in less than stable environments and can break with both disorders. But, no, to answer your question, the two disorders aren't necessarily related."

"How'd you get so smart girl?"

Beth flashed him a radiant smile, one he couldn't help but return. As they drove on in a comfortable silence, she absentmindedly played with Daryl's fingers where they lay on the console between them.

Familiar landscapes from her youth-spent summers passed by outside the window. Her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks partly because or her surroundings and partly because of Daryl. It was so easy being with him. They just made each other better. She couldn't wait to introduce him to her family.

"How much more we got to go," Daryl asked.

"Maybe ten minutes or so to Lock Haven."

"You gonna' call 'em? Tell 'em we're almost there?"

"Nah," she grinned. "My aunt Deanna is a big fan of surprises."

The fall foliage was starting to thicken as they moved further from the city toward the small town of Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. "It's beautiful here, isn't it? There's a deep patch of woods next to the farm. This time of year it looks like it's on fire with all the reds and oranges and yellows. The deeper you go, the higher the elevation, that's why it was never cleared. Makes for great hiking and hunting though. I used to camp out in the tree house, which is awesome by the way, at the base of the woods. The trees looked like a giant wave when I was little. I used to pretend that the tree house was my ship and that the waves would carry me away to distant lands." She punctuated her whimsy with a giant wave of her arm.

Daryl watched her slip back in time in her mind. She looked happy, her hands animated with excitement. "I wish we had more time," she said more to herself than to looked at the clock. It was 4:30. They would have just enough time to eat dinner and visit for a few hours. He wanted her to have more. "Think we ought to plan on comin' back tomorra'. Spend the day. We can catch a flight out on Sundy'."

Beth looked at him like he had just sprouted a second head. "We couldn't do that... Could we," she asked with impossibly wide eyes.

"Don't see why not. It's the weekend. Nothin' more we can do 'til Mondy'."

Beth chewed on her lower lip, obviously tempted. "I haven't actually booked a return flight yet," she said as a mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Sundy' it is."

"Remind me to kiss you later," she cooed.

"Damn straight," he promised, his voice a little deeper than usual. The look in his eyes sent a shudder down her spine. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and spreading low in her gut. Just then a familiar landmark caught her attention, and she realized just how close they were to the place she considered her second home.

A/N: Coming up... Lots of Bethyl sexy time in Lock Haven. Updating soon ;). Please review! It is much appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12: Lock Haven

**A/N: So, I have discovered, in writing this chapter, that there is a VERY fine line between "too much" and "just enough" when writing smut. This is my attempt! I'm as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but here goes! Oh, and thank you, thank you, to all of you who have reviewed! You make my days as bright as Beth's smile!**

**Chpt 12: Lock Haven**

"You're gonna' turn right just over this hill," she said and Daryl slowed the car to a respectable speed. "Right here," Beth pointed.

He guided the car onto a narrow road, just wide enough for a car and a half. A three foot stone fence that appeared to be as old as time itself lined the landscape on each side. Well established ivy claimed the worn, slick stones, tumbling over the ledge in a tangled heap only to reappear as thick and green as before. Delicate white, wildflowers sprang up in bunches. They danced and swayed along side purple blooms and yellow blossoms, standing in stark rebellious contrast to the grays and taupes of the ancient stones.

They drove at a snails pace for the next mile so struck was Daryl with the unexpected beauty that surrounded them. No wonder Beth loved it here. It was wild and alive, deep rooted and unaffected by centuries of change. An opening in the stone fence revealed a long, paved driveway that disappeared around a curve and into a thick line of ancient, broad based trees. Two lean and muscular quarter horses romped in a pasture just off the road. Three more grazed lazily deeper into the pasture.

"My cousin Spencer's house is down there. He's in charge of the dairy operation. They run about 300 head on 650 acres. My uncle farms the rest. He prefers the planting, always hated the dairy work. That house over there," she said pointing toward a modern, two story, plantation style home on Daryl's side of the road, "is my cousin Aiden's. He's a physician in town. No interest in farming, but he likes to fish and hike so he bought two acres from Uncle Reg and built that house with his wife about four years ago."

"How many acres 'your uncle farm?"

"He rotates crops, so it depends on the seasonal plan, but usually he has right at 800 acres active."

"Damn. That's like 1500 acres or better."

"Yeah, it's basically a big rectangle. It's 1.2 miles from the turnoff back there to the driveway." She shifted in her seat and pointed past Daryl. "This farm runs flush with another dairy farm on that side, all the way to the Susquehanna River. Over here," she said turning and pointing out of her window, "is a dense patch of forest that the state owns. It's a natural easement, but fifteen years or so ago, a company that builds cell phone towers tried to buy the land from the state. Uncle Reg found out and called a friend of his from the Audubon Society. They had it declared an indelible ecosystem which basically means it can't be disturbed or destroyed for any reason. Nothing short of a zombie apocalypse could impact those woods. The farm runs a little deeper on this side, but the river pretty much cuts straight across the back of the property."

It was the kind of place Daryl had never allowed himself to dream about. But here with Beth anything seemed possible. "How old's this place?"

"Well, Lock Haven was settled in the late 1700s. It was originally one of the frontier forts along the Susquehanna. My uncle's great, great, however many greats grandfather was a major in the Continental Army. He fought with George Washington at Valley Forge in, what, 1777 I think? He helped Washington chase the Red Coats out of Philadelphia and supposedly fought beside him, as in physically next to him, at Monmouth. At the close of the Revolutionary War, Washington arranged for all of his officers to purchase federal land for pennies on the dollar. This is the land my uncle's great, great bought. From what I was told, it was pretty much one huge dense forest so he built a small house up from the river and started a timber business. Lumber was Lock Haven's bread and butter for generations. He started clearing the land from the center of the property out and used the river to transport the timber. He was pretty successful by all accounts. Once he had the homestead area cleared, he used limestone and river rock to build the house my aunt and uncle live in now."

"Hmmm," he said with the ghost of a smile.

"Yeah, apparently I'm full of useless knowledge." She felt the heat rising in her cheeks, a little embarrassed by her monologue, but she just wanted Daryl to love this place as much as she did. He assured her that he would when he lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

The road they were on dead ended onto a cobblestone drive that led the rest of the way to the house. Daryl pulled the car to a stop in front of a two story Georgian style house. The stone exterior was sturdy and utilitarian. The wide and narrow symmetry, as was typical in Colonial America, exuded order and strength. Black louvered shutters trimmed five uniformed windows on the second floor and four on the first. A small front porch, just wider than the front door was set with two slim columns, and the roof was adorned with two bricked chimneys, one on each end of the house.

A petite woman with light hair and a bright smile stepped through the front door followed by a tall, gray haired man. Beth shot out of the car and flew up the two narrow stairs and into her arms. Daryl watched over the top of the car as Beth hugged her aunt and uncle. She turned toward him and waved him to the porch, all the while bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"I want you guys to meet my... Daryl... Daryl Dixon. Daryl meet Reg and Deanna Monroe, my favorite aunt and uncle."

"M'am," he said with a nod of his head. "Sir"

"So nice to meet you Daryl," Deanna said and pulled him into a hug. He tapped her on the back awkwardly and Beth giggled. "You two come on in. Beth you can help me with dinner... Everyone's coming." She threw her arm over Beth's shoulders and gave her a good squeeze on the way in. "Reg, why don't you show Daryl around a bit..."

Beth and Deanna disappeared into the kitchen while Daryl got the full tour of the house and its surroundings. "That's Beth's treehouse," Mr. Monroe pointed out as they neared two huge oak trees that likely rivaled the ancient limestone for original occupant status. "We started building that tree house when Beth was five. She and her mother were here visiting for a month. She immediately took over as design and construction manager," he said with an adoring smile. "It had to have three separate rooms, one for her and one for each of the boys. Each room had to have its own window too. In the center she insisted on a view of the sky. So there I was, up in that big oak tree, trimming branches so that her view of the sky was completely unobstructed," he said proudly. He pointed between the two trees. "We built a bridge connecting the two and put a ladder on the other side there. I think she climbed this knotted rope more than she ever used the ladder."

The two men walked on toward the river in easy conversation, stopping at the tiny square cabin that had once been slave quarters. The Monroes had fully renovated the once, two room cabin, equipping it with modern utilities. "We lived here when we first got married. The big house needed a lot of work so we spent our first two years right here," Reg said fondly. Daryl decided it looked like a place he could live in for the rest of his life. A small smile forced its way through when a vision of him and Beth settling down in a little cabin of their own flashed unbidden in his mind.

Mr. Monroe did most of the talking, sharing stories about Beth and about the history that surrounded them. Daryl found that he enjoyed listening to him talk. While he was obviously proud of his home and his heritage, he was also humbled by its beauty and resilience. He seemed to view his lot in life as a gift rather than an entitlement. Daryl didn't even mind Mr. Monroe's curious questions, mostly about his job and his home. Turns out they shared an interest in motorcycles, hunting, crossbows, and, of course, Beth.

Inside the house, Mrs. Monroe was also playing twenty questions. "Oh for Pete's sake, Beth! Spill it!"

"Spill what," Beth asked coyly with the sweetest smile she could muster splattered across her face.

"Don't 'what' me, Elizabeth Greene. Spill!"

Beth giggled and shook her head. "Well, you know we... reconnected not long ago, when this case started. We had to fly to Scranton to follow a few leads, so here we are."

"And?"

"And, we're taking things slow."

"Aha! I knew it! You're dating."

"Don't get too excited. We just worked through what happened before. He was scared, just like you said, and he apologized for all the things he said. I told him I was sorry too... and we decided to give this thing another chance."

Beth's calm exterior did nothing to hide the hope and excitement shining in her eyes. "You really like him, don't you?"

She looked up at Deanna through her lashes. "Yeah... I really like him," she said shyly.

"He's a good man?"

"Yes, he is. He's honest and honorable. I feel safe and respected when I'm with him. He tries to protect me. He always has, but he doesn't treat me like I'm fragile."

"You're in love," her aunt said with a grin that rivaled Beth's.

Before Beth could respond, three little ones came charging into the kitchen followed closely by a tall, slender woman in her early thirties carrying a toddler on one hip. "Beth! I told Spencer I wouldn't believe it until I saw it, but here you are." She hugged Beth tightly. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," Beth said before turning her attention to the little girl. "Oh, Sasha, she's beautiful! Can I hold her..."

Dinner was wild. Two brothers, two wives, and seven kids all under the age of twelve joined them for one of the best home cooked meals Daryl had ever tasted. Dinner with Beth was one of the things he had missed most after she left for Quantico. They found themselves grabbing quick meals together through the week, but every Sunday, after Beth drug him to church, she would fix a home cooked meal for just the two of them. If Daryl had wild game, they would go to his house, if not, they would eat at her apartment. The best part about Sunday was spending the rest of the afternoon just hanging out with Beth.

Aside from the less than stealthy glances he kept getting, the family treated him like he was one of their own. He couldn't help but like 'em and, even though he didn't say too much, he found himself smiling more than once. He watched Beth bouncing Spencer and Sasha's little girl on her knee, and his heart grew a little in his chest. He wondered if maybe some day the two of them could make something like that. He figured that having the shittiest dad in the world at least taught him how not to do it. Beth could help him figure out the rest.

After dinner, the women cleaned, the kids played, and the men retired to the living room. When Beth at last joined him, she sunk to the floor between his knees and laid her cheek on his thigh. Long about 10:30, Beth reluctantly announced that she and Daryl had better head back to Scranton with the promise to return in the morning.

"Your not spending the night," Deanna asked, a bit distressed.

"We didn't bring anything with us," Beth answered woefully.

"Well that doesn't matter. You can have something of mine to wear and I've got some of their things here that will work for Daryl," she said pointing to her sons.

Beth looked at Daryl, silently giving him permission to bail if he would rather. What she saw in his eyes warmed her heart. "Reckon we ought to stay then," he said matter-of-factly.

Mrs. Monroe clapped her hands in front of her. "Wonderful! I'll go find something for you to sleep in and some clothes for tomorrow. Beth, you two will have to stay in the cabin tonight. I've turned Spencer's room into a sewing room and I'm afraid Aiden's room has become a sort of catch all for all our junk. The bathroom should be fully stocked, new toothbrushes are in the cabinet, and clean sheets are on the bed. There are extra blankets if you need to make up the couch bed."

Spencer invited Daryl to meet him at the dairy barn bright and early. He promised to take him hunting on the property as soon as the morning chores were done. Daryl was more than happy to take him up on his offer. Aiden promised to join them too as they all said their goodbyes and see you laters.

Beth took Daryl's hand and led him out the back door toward the cabin. She stepped gingerly on her toes trying to avoid sinking her good high heals into the moist grass. "Here," Daryl said, stepping in front of her and bending low so she could hop on.

"You serious?"

"Serious piggyback. Hop on."

Beth giggled when he lifted her effortlessly and curled his arms around her knees. She felt herself trembling, excitement flooding her heart, feeling like something between them had clicked into place in the last few days, something solid and lasting. "You cold?"

"Nah, I'm good," she said and hugged herself a little tighter to him.

He kept her on his back as he opened the door and stepped inside the cabin. It was rustic and inviting and Daryl immediately felt at ease. Beth slid from his back and headed for the massive river rock fireplace. It ran from one side of the cabin to the other with two arched cutouts on either end, one leading to a small kitchen and the other leading to the bedroom. The living room had just enough space for a couch and a recliner. "The fireplace is double sided," he heard her say as she lit the gas logs. Daryl watched her, overwhelmed by all that he felt for her.

He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room, focus narrowed to only her. The blue in his eyes darkened to a stormy gray, sending Beth's pulse to racing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her flush against him. "Keep each other warm," he all but growled. No truer statement Beth thought. Just being this close to him had her body heated almost to a boil. He kissed her slow and easy, sliding his hand through her hair, angling her head to better taste her mouth. Desire melded with familiarity in a slow erotic dance that had Beth opening up to him with a soft mew. When her hands snaked around his neck and her fingers scraped through his hair, Daryl's entire body hummed with need.

"Oh!," they both registered at the same time. Beth pulled back from Daryl to find her aunt standing awkwardly in the doorway with a small stack of clothes in hand. "I'm sorry," she mouthed dramatically to Beth, as if Daryl couldn't read the silent apology as well as she could.

Beth pulled away from Daryl who looked like he might melt into the floor from embarrassment right about then, and crossed back to the door, relieving her aunt of the load. "Thank you," Beth sang and turned quickly back to Daryl. "I think these must be for you," she said and deposited the stack on the couch. "Bathroom is right there," she said pointing to the only door within the cabin and promptly ushering her aunt to the front porch.

"Goodnight, Daryl," her aunt called over her shoulder. He flicked his wrist at the women in a half wave, and Beth pulled the door closed.

"That was quite the kiss I walked in on," Deanna teased.

"Don't start," Beth warned with a very silly grin splattered across her face.

"I like him Beth. And he quite obviously adores you. Trust your heart on this one, okay?"

Beth tucked her arm under her aunt's and gave her a sideways hug. They walked together back across the yard and Beth said her goodnights. She could hear the shower running when she went back inside the cabin. Just the thought of him naked and wet behind that door had her insides swirling. An idea popped into her head that had her chewing on her bottom lip. Deciding to go for it, she took determined strides to the bedroom and found exactly what she needed lying across the foot of the bed. She quickly changed clothes and checked her reflection in the window, experimenting with different up-doos, before finally deciding on a messy knot at the top of her head.

When she heard the bathroom door creek, she quickly applied a coat of gloss to her lips and plopped down on the bed in her best seductive pose. She felt silly, really. She knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but she figured a little spice couldn't hurt. Pulse racing, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself as she waited for him to return. Her hands slid down her front in nervous anticipation and she patted her hair anxiously. When he didn't appear, she tip toed to the archway leading back to the living room. He was busy tossing pillows from the couch and trying to figure out how the damn couch bed pulled out. When he stepped back, grumbling at it for good measure, Beth spoke up. "The bed in there's big enough for two..."

His smart ass quip died on his lips as soon as he turned and saw her. She stood there bathed in soft light from the crackling fireplace wearing nothing more than that mischievous grin of hers and his discarded button down. It draped her like a sack cloth falling nearly to her knees, but damn if she wasn't the sexiest thing he had ever seen. She had left all but the center three buttons undone and he could just see a hint of the light blue panties she wore underneath. The open neck slid to the side leaving one shoulder deliciously exposed. When she started fidgeting nervously with the hem and looked at him shyly through her lashes, he erased the distance between them with a growl. Beth's hands shot to his chest when he slid his to the back of her neck, hauling her into a hungry kiss. All coherent thought ceased as he walked her backward and pinned her to the wall.

Daryl ran his fingers roughly down her arms and lifted them over her head, securing them in place with one hand at her wrists. Pressing his body hard against hers, he began his assault on her neck. Beth writhed and twisted as his lips nipped and nuzzled the juncture of shoulder and neck, leaving a pleasant burn in their wake from the scruff on his chin.

His free hand landed at her hip and slid up her side, thumb sweeping dangerously close to her breast. As his lips slipped lower so did his hand. Needy fingers roamed the back of her thigh from the lacy elastic of her panties all the way down to her knee. Beth lifted her leg and scraped her knee against his hip pressing into him. When he rocked hard against her, he felt more than heard the soft moan that escaped her throat. He let go of her wrists, but she didn't drop her arms until he cupped her bottom and lifted her to him. Beth grabbed his shoulders and wrapped both legs around his waist immediately missing the feel of him pressed right where she needed him most. His eyes locked onto hers, pupils blown wide, and he could clearly see that she wanted this as much as he did. She kissed him deeply but with less desperation as he carried her effortlessly to the bed. He laid her on her back and hovered over her, muscles taut from holding his weight. He was struck once again by her beauty, taken back by the desire for _him,_ no less, swirling in those devastatingly blue eyes of hers.

"_Daryl_," she pleaded and reached for him, cupping his face and pulling him to her. He went willingly, placing agonizingly slow and tender kisses on her lips, her eyelids, and her cheek. His hand ghosted down the length of her leg and slid back up her inner thigh and under her shirt... _his_ shirt, with just enough pressure to send her arching into him. He had never seen anything sexier than Beth lying beneath him reveling in his touch.

He laid his hand flat against her stomach and watched as the muscles tightened under his palm. When he spread his fingers wide and traveled slowly up her ribs, he looked up and caught her eyes before cupping her breast and sweeping his thumb across one pebbled nipple. Her hips bucked and her breath hitched, but her gaze never wavered.

Beth reached for the hem of his dark blue t-shirt and inched it up exposing lean, hard muscle. Daryl grabbed it at the tag and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor and lowering himself to her. He kissed her slowly, deeply, ardently, taking his time to taste and feel. He rolled to his back, bringing Beth with him, tucked his hands beneath his head and drank in the sight of her, breathless and beautiful. She straddled his hips and pulled the band from her hair unleashing a riot of soft curls down around her shoulders. When she leaned forward, shifting her weight against his need, he grunted and she spooked, eyes going wide. Daryl's lips pulled up at the corners and the tension in her shoulders abated. She returned his smile with a shy but determined one of her own. Nimble fingers glided softly across his chest and down his center line to the top of his cotton sleep pants. He twitched beneath her when she circled his belly button and teased the wispy hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. She lifted her eyes and peered at him through long, heavy lashes. Daryl froze when she sat back on her heels and seemed to study him with a resolute pout. He couldn't even imagine what might be running through that big brain of hers.

When she finally spoke, her voice was husky, deeper than he remembered it ever being. "I love you, Daryl Dixon... And I'm gonna' keep lovin' you 'til the day I die."

Daryl's eyes bounced back and forth between hers, outside of that, he remained stock still, blown away by her declaration. He opened his mouth with every intention of telling her exactly how he felt, but he couldn't find the words. Nothing he could think to say even began to describe what he felt for her.

Beth giggled softly. "You don't have to say anything... I already know."

That barely there smile that Beth was so very fond of pulled at his lips. He watched through heavily lidded eyes as she gathered her hair to one side and set to work on the buttons of her shirt. Her fingers trembled and she fumbled as the rush of adrenaline faded and the weight of what was finally happening settled between them.

"Beth," he whispered and covered her hands with his. "We don't have to do this."

"It's not that," she said on a breath. "I want this... I want this with you. I just... I want 'a do it right. I want to _please_ you, and I'm not sure..."

Daryl shot up and covered her lips with his. It was a hard, commanding kiss, meant to assure her that everything she did brought him nothing but pleasure. He pulled her with him to the head of the bed and settled her, once again, across his lap. "Ain't gotta' worry 'bout pleasin' me, Beth. Best damn thing 'ever happened to me."

She graced him with a brilliant smile and leaned in to kiss him, tasting and exploring with new found confidence. When Daryl closed his hands over her breasts, Beth gasped realizing that somewhere along the way, he had loosed the remaining buttons on her shirt, exposing her freely to him. Open mouthed kisses to her chest and neck had her arching and writhing in his lap. He bent his knees to her back and held her securely to him as he kneaded the soft swells, tracing the juncture of pink and white with a relentless attention to detail. Beth rocked into him and threw her head back against his legs. "_Daryl_," she moaned as she climbed higher and higher under his touch alone. He drew her into his mouth, rolling across her nipple with his tongue, and her hands flew to his head holding him against her. When his hand slid lower and scraped against her folds, light exploded like fireworks beneath her eyelids. Every part of her tingled as she slid past her climax and fell gloriously to the other side.

Daryl flipped her to her back, crossways on the bed, and stroked her hair, easing her back down. She chewed on her bottom lip in a failing effort to temper her smile. Nothing in her life had ever felt that good. "Beth," he began, voice rough and stilted, but stopped short when she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Daryl! I just realized... You... I mean I... ,"

"What," he said with a worried frown.

"It's just..." she hesitated. "It seems like you did all the work and I had all the fun," she then said in a rush.

A devilish grin pulled at his lips. "I'm just gettin' started, girl."

Beth's eyes flew wide and a shiver ran down her spine. Daryl hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slid them quickly down her legs. He stood and did the same with his pajama pants and boxers. Beth thought she might pass out just at the sight of him. She swallowed hard against a dry mouth when he nudged her legs apart with his knee and slid it to a stop against her core. He tried to go slow, reminding himself that this was her first time, that she had saved herself for the man she loves... for him, but she pulled him down to her, kissing him as fervently as he was kissing her.

He pulled back and she shivered missing his warmth and weight immediately, not because she was cold, but because something shifted when they locked eyes. Daryl gripped her thighs and slid his hands slowly to her core. Her eyelids fell closed, and she licked her lips, focusing on the dull but growing ache between her thighs. When his thumbs ran the length of her folds, she bucked and tried to slide away, so overwhelming was the feel of him at her center. He held her in place with a gentle hand, palm flat against her pelvis. When he inched one finger inside, caressing her tenderly, she gasped loudly and cried out his name.

Daryl froze and raised his head to look at her. She shook her head, "Don't stop... _please._"

He did as she asked and slipped a second finger in with the first, this time pushing into her and sending her spiraling. He moved in, and out, and around her, gaining speed and depth until she clenched around him. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her hard as she came in waves beneath him. She sank into the bed, boneless and panting, absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. "Daryl," she whispered still trying to catch her breath, "what about you?"

"Don't worry 'bout me."

"Daryl," she insisted, sliding her hands from his hair to his cheeks, "I want to be with you. Now. Tonight. We're protected. I take the pill to stay regular, and you know I have to get tested every year for work, just like you. I'm negative..."

"It ain't that..."

She ran her thumb across his jawline, back and forth, so tenderly he thought his heart might break. "What is it," she asked, her eyes begging him for the truth.

"I don't want 'a hurt 'ya," he mumbled sincerely.

Understanding swept the confused frown from her face, and she smiled at him sweetly. "From what I understand," she said in all seriousness, "it takes some gettin' used to, and it does hurt the first time, but I'm ready, Daryl. You won't hurt me... and I want this... I want this with you."

He searched her eyes, hesitating only briefly before dropping his lips to hers again. He reached down between them and pressed himself forward teasing her open. Beth held tight to his biceps and spread her hips wide, arching into him when he slipped past her folds. He moved back and forth slowly, filling her a little more with each gentle push. She was so wet and so tight, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. "_Beth_..."

She felt herself stretching around him as he moved in and out of her slowly, deeper and deeper with each controlled thrust. She cried out when he filled her completely and felt him shaking above her. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her intently, sweat beading across his forehead, his chest wet with his exertion. "_Beth_," he groaned again and she could see his control was slipping. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, and he pushed hard into her, gaining speed and momentum with each thrust. Tears sprang to her eyes. She couldn't help it. She loved him, and he was inside of her, and it filled her with such joy, she couldn't help but cry. With one last surge, he let go, moaning into the crook of her neck. She felt his heart pounding against her at an unimaginable pace when he collapsed heavy on top of her. He caught his breath while she stroked his back in long, languid strides. He grunted and rolled, bringing her with him with the last bit of energy he had left. Beth continued to caress him, lightly drawing her hand back and forth across his chest. Daryl pushed her hair back from her face and held it there. A worried frown creased his brow. "You okay?"

She smiled resolutely and nodded. She felt light and tingly, bone tired from pouring herself out for him, because of him. In short, she felt way better than just okay. He took a second more to search her face worried he might see regret, but all he found was love and trust and truth. He lifted her hips, puling her from him and tucked her into his side.

Beth curled into him completely spent. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy as he ran his fingers up and down her side in long, barely there strokes. Just before sleep drug her under, she felt him squeeze her hand where it lay over his thunderous heart and heard him whisper, "I love you, Beth." She didn't answer, too relaxed to form the words, but she smiled into his side, and knew he understood.

**A/N: So, that just happened! Please review and let me know what you think! That was just about the hardest thing I have ever written, and I've just about chewed my thumb off worrying about it!**


	13. Chapter 13: Truth Unburdened

**A/N: Thank you, thank you to all those who have reviewed! They truly keep me motivated. Here's a little more Bethyl before we get down to the nitty gritty.**

**Chpt 13: Truth Unburdened**

"What's so funny?" Beth had her head propped against his shoulder, both arms wrapped around his as they sat in the airport waiting to board their plane home. It was 5:30, Sunday morning, and everyone around them looked like the walking dead. Beth, on the other hand, had been giggling under her breath periodically for the last twenty minutes. She shook her head avoiding his eyes, knowing the minute she found them, all hope was lost. Daryl nudged her with his shoulder, and she knew, without looking, that he had his head cocked staring intently had the to pop of her head. When she finally looked up, she blasted him with a smile as bright as the sun before breaking into yet another giggling fit.

Well Daryl had had enough. "The hell's wrong with you, girl?"

Beth swiveled in her seat to face him. "I was just picturin'..." she started before closing her eyes and tipping forward in a belly laugh. Daryl rolled his eyes and tried to fight the upturn of his own lips. Beth's smile was one thing, but her laugh was something else entirely. Contagious was the only word for it. She snorted, drew in a deep breath, and blew it out through puckered lips. "I'm sorry. I was just remembering the look on your face when the suction broke on the milker..." Another round of giggling and snorting overtook her while Daryl simply glared at the back of her head where it had landed, face down on his thigh. Beth peaked up at him through her lashes and tried desperately to regain her composure. "I just... I've never seen that face before... You were all 'ahhh! and ewww! and and slappin' at the milk spray like a little girl and then... and then when Spencer tried to help... (more snorting)... and you jumped out of the way... ( tears and giggles) and your foot landed in the milk bucket... I'm pretty sure both my cousins learned a few new words!"

"Yeah... Yuck it up Dairy Queen," he grumbled, but the twitch in his lips gave him away. She looked so damn adorable sitting there, cheeks flushed, blue eyes shimmerin'. He couldn't help but reach for her, feathering his fingers through her curls. When she caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, he leaned in and pulled her closer, sealing his lips over hers in a soft chaste but lingering kiss.

"Thank you for coming with me," she said sincerely.

"We're a team now, girl," he shrugged trying to downplay all that that actually meant. "Next time we'll stay longer. Maybe spend a night up in that tree house ya' like so much."

He watched as a glorious smile spread across her pretty face. He knew full well the implication in what he said, and he very much enjoyed seeing it sink in. "They liked you. My aunt thinks your funny and quite the looker too."

The tips of Daryl's ears turned pink. "I ain't a damn bit funny," he said with a smirk.

"Ha ha, Mr. Dixon," she said and rolled her eyes.

"I liked them too. You come from good people."

"You're 'good people' too. You know that, right?"

"I'm tryin', Beth."

She smiled at him tenderly, and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. Sensing a change in topic was in order, Beth asked if he had spoken to Rick lately.

"Told him we're headed home, 's all."

"I've been sending Zach and Blake vague emails. Blake no doubt suspects I know more than I'm sayin'. I think I'll call Zach later and see if he'll meet me tonight. I want to go over everything with him before Monday."

"I'll go with ya'."

"You think you can play nice?"

**~TWD~**

"Welcome home, Princess," Agent Zachary Hines said sarcastically as he slid into the booth across from Beth. "Miss me?"

"Like a toothache."

"Where's your partner in crime?"

Beth pointed over his shoulder toward Daryl who was making his way back to the table. Zach rolled his eyes at the sight of him. "So what do you want to talk to me about?"

"We've got a problem," Beth said as Daryl slid into the booth.

"And that concerns me how?"

Beth felt Daryl tense and put a hand on his knee to calm him. "Zach, quit being an ass and listen. Our perp, Gareth West? He's Blake's son."

"What?" he said, as if she might be joking.

"Look," Beth said and handed him the ID badge they had collected from Professor Morgan. "That's Gareth West."

Zach studied the photo and the striking similarities between his partner and the perp. "So they look alike. So what?"

"He was there, Zach. Blake was in Pennsylvania. He tried to clean up Gareth's first mess, at the university. He was in Allentown when Gareth's mother got pregnant."

"That doesn't mean he's his son," he said and tossed the ID badge back to Beth.

"We have evidence. Just take a look at it and form your own opinion."

Zach eyed the two of them, not believing what he was hearing, but seeing they were dead serious, he acquiesced. "Show me."

Beth and Daryl laid out everything they had found. Zach could see how conflicted Beth was, knowing she cared about Blake as much as he did. Although the evidence was mostly circumstantial, it was obvious that Blake was connected.

"You think he's actively involved," he asked, hurt bubbling just under the surface in his voice.

"No," Beth said. "There's no evidence to support that, but I do think he's protecting him. I think he's known from the beginning that Gareth West is our guy. "

"So what do we do about it?"

"Daryl's team at Violent Crimes has been running a canvas in the industrial area where the warehouse was located. They had a few hits on the black Taurus too. Now that we have a photo, we can re-canvas and see if anybody recognizes West.

Zach tapped the table with his finger and considered their options. "I'll go along with it for now. But you don't make a move without me, clear?"

**~TWD~**

Daryl and Beth climbed into Daryl's pick-up both exhausted from the trip home and the meeting with Agent Hines. Their theory was officially out in the open and now the game of cat and mouse was afoot. Beth dreaded the secrecy. She was a terrible liar, but somehow, she and Zach were going to have to find a way to solve this case without tipping their hand to Blake. Beth's mind was whirling. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice when Daryl pulled the truck to a stop outside of her apartment building. She startled when he opened the passenger door. "Come on. I'll walk you up."

Beth hopped from the truck and started for the door. Daryl just about ran over her when she stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

Without a word, he headed back to his truck to grab his overnight bag, the one he always kept tucked behind the seat. He threw it over his shoulder and made his way back to Beth. She smiled that small little smile she reserved just for him and he took her hand in his.

Upstairs, Beth told Daryl to make himself at home while she ran and jumped in the shower first. As tired as he was, his body still reacted to the site of her in her little pajama shorts set, wet curls pulled over one shoulder, no make up, smelling like lavender and springtime.

Beth pulled him up from the couch and tossed her arms around his neck. Daryl couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged. Beth signed and leaned back in his arms, just enough to see his face.

"What was that for," he asked.

"Just because, silly," she said and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. "Your turn in the shower."

When Daryl emerged from the shower, he found a sleeping Beth, curled up on the end of the couch. He ran the back his finger gently down her cheek and across her bottom lip. Beth stirred and lifted heavy eyelids. She started to sit up, but Daryl slipped an arm under her knees and one around her shoulders, cradling her effortlessly to him before she could. Beth nuzzled the crook of his neck and sank into his warmth.

She stayed tucked into him as he lowered them both to the bed. The soft sigh she made had his lips curving into a contented smile. He ran his fingers through her hair, over and over again, letting the soft curls tangle between his fingers. He thought back to their second night on the farm in Pennsylvania. They had spent the day exploring the land with her family. Beth played a furious game of catch up with her aunt and uncle while Daryl listened and learned tucking away pieces of Beth's history in his heart and in his mind. She was amazing. He didn't understand how you could be near her and not love her. What she saw in a dumbass like him, he would never understand, but he wasn't fool enough to question it.

After a day spent hiking, fishing, and eating... _damn if Beth's aunt could cook_, Beth and Daryl were both pleasantly spent. When the conversation eased and eyelids grew heavy, Daryl excused himself to the cabin and a long, hot shower giving Beth some alone time with her aunt and uncle. Beth finally made her way back to the cabin, later than she had intended, to find Daryl already asleep in the bed. With a tinge of disappointment, she grabbed her things and tiptoed to the shower.

When Beth snuck back into the bedroom, Daryl had shifted so that he was lying on his back, one hand thrown haphazardly over his head, the other resting lightly across the valleys and ridges of exposed muscle where the sheets had drifted low to blanket him from the waist down. Beth watched the steady rise and fall of his chest in the soft light from the fire. She thought about their night before, had thought about it in every quiet moment throughout the day. For years, her heart had beat for him, all that she felt for him bubbling just under the surface. Those feelings had burst forth last night. He loved her. He had told her that and in no uncertain terms. Daryl didn't say things he didn't mean, and neither did she. She chewed her bottom lip, fighting the urge to wake him, wanting desperately to further explore the things their bodies could do together. Just as she decided to let him sleep, he rolled to his side and reached across the empty expanse where she should be. Worry furrowed his brow, and his eyes popped open. "Beth?" he whispered, voice rough and deep with sleep.

"I'm here," she answered and slid into the bed next to him. He pulled her snug to him and nuzzled her neck, throwing one leg and one arm across her pinning her to him. Beth giggled and drug her toes slowly up and down the back of his calf. She could feel his growing need pressing against her thigh, and a whole host of butterflies took flight low in her belly.

Daryl slipped his hand under her sleep tank and used his thumb to trace slow circles at her hip. Her hands combed through his hair, one coming to rest against his cheek when he lifted his chin to find her eyes. His face was a mix of desire and concern, his eyes begging permission to love her again. She smiled sweetly, and gently tugged him to her. He went without hesitation, shifting so that he covered her petite frame completely. He kissed her slowly, deeply and Beth opened up to him on a sigh. He sank into her, dropping his weight between her thighs, pulling back from her lips when their kisses grew hungry and rushed. He was determined to take his time, to show her how much he loved her, to convince her that she meant everything in this world to him. "You sure you're okay," he asked, voice husky and sincere.

Beth nodded. "A little sore, but I'm not complainin'"

He slanted his lips over hers and lowered them to her, tasting and exploring, Beth giving as good as she was getting. Daryl took his time memorizing every soft curve, learning what made her giggle, what made her squirm, what made her sigh, and what drove her to call out his name. Beth loved out loud, the same way she lived and Daryl thought is was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.

He still had a hard time believing that he could touch her like this, that she wanted him to touch her like this. He realized that he had loved her from the beginning. His only regret was that he hadn't recognized love before he let her walk away the first time. Outside of his brother, who meant it in his own screwed up way, and his mother who only ever said it when she was lit and feeling nostalgic, no one had ever told him they loved him. No one. And he had certainly never said it to anyone before last night.

"What" he heard her say, and he realized that he was staring at her, breathing her in like oxygen. It was so easy for him to lose himself in those big blue eyes of hers.

"You're beautiful," he whispered and Beth rewarded him with a shy smile.

He kissed her again and sat back on his heels, dragging her with him. He lifted her shirt over her head and went to work learning every square inch of her. When Beth felt as if she might explode with need, she reached for his head and urged his face back to hers. "I need you...," she pleaded

With long, slow thrusts, he drove her to the edge and back, barely maintaining control himself. When her nails scraped across his back, digging into the scars that no one but her had ever seen, whispering his name on a breath over and over again, he picked up the pace driving harder, deeper, and quicker, panting in her ear. She shattered into a thousand pieces, wrapping her legs and arms tight around him. With one final grunt, he called her name, and sank into her.

He slept better than he ever had with Beth in the bed next to him. He would never understand how someone so tiny could make him feel so safe, invincible really. It felt right curled up next to her. When she asked him if he would stay with her tonight, he hadn't given his 'yes' a second thought. He belonged with her, that much he knew for sure. He would go wherever she went and gladly do whatever she needed him to do because his heart was hers, plain and simple.

Monday morning came way too soon. Beth woke to the smell of bacon and found Daryl busy in the kitchen. She snaked her arms around his waist and leaned into his back inhaling deeply his distinctive smell of pine and outdoors. She let it fill her nostrils memorizing the comforting aroma knowing she would need to remember it later when she reported back to work. Daryl half spun and tossed an arm over her shoulder pulling her around to him. "Mornin' Sunshine," he said, voice rough with disuse.

"Mornin'" she answered with a lazy smile that Daryl quickly covered with a kiss. "This is nice."

"Thought you might could use a good breakfast today."

She jumped up to set on the counter near the stove. "Thanks," she said beaming up at him.

Daryl headed to work after a lingering kiss from Beth and she did the same. The ID picture from Professor Morgan was enhanced and distributed via the Violent Crimes Unit. Beth reported to Agent Blake that she was convinced that Gareth West was their guy. She explained that, oddly enough, there were no photos in any of his records, choosing not to mention the ID photo just yet. There was, however, evidence that he may have been involved with the Ketamine theft at both the university and the local vet clinics. He was familiar with Ketamine and its dosages through his work at the university. She also told him that, while he was never arrested for the disappearance of Andrea Kirkman, he was certainly linked to her and Beth believed him to be involved. "I believe she was ground zero."

Agent Blake asked very few questions. His face remained blank, but he held Beth's gaze a little longer than usual searching her eyes, contemplating something, and Beth wondered if maybe a part of him was ready to unload the burden of the truth he carried. In the end, however, he merely requested that she submit a written report along with her expense receipts, and come up with a plan as to where to go from here.

Across town, Daryl and his team were busy once again canvassing the industrial district, this time with a photo of their suspect. Rick caught up with Daryl at lunch. "Hey, brother. Look whose back! How was your trip?"

Daryl shrugged a noncommittal shoulder. "Good," he said and opened the door of the deli.

Rick eyed him suspiciously. "That's it?"

Daryl muttered something nonsensical and headed for the counter. They placed their orders and slid into a booth, Daryl hoping Rick might let it go. No such luck, however. Rick narrowed his eyes and studied Daryl, lips pursed in pursuit of the truth.

"What happened with Beth?"

And there it was, _damn it_. Daryl shrugged a grumbled something akin to " 'ont kno' "

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means it's none of your damn business," Daryl said and tried to scowl, but his stupid ass upper lip twitched just enough to give him away.

Rick slammed his hands on the table. "I be damned," he all but hollered before a big shit eaten' grin spread wide across his face.

"What," Daryl barked.

"That was a smile. I saw it, and I know who put that smile there," Rick surmised, pointing at Daryl from across the table.

"The hell you talkin' about? I always smile, dumb ass."

"No," Rick snorted. "No you do not smile. You do a lot of things, but smilin' is not one of 'em."

"Dumb ass," Daryl muttered again as a cheerful little fella' dropped their sandwiches and chips on the table in front of them.

"So you two finally figure things out?"

Daryl took a big bite out of his sandwich effectively avoiding giving an answer, but he couldn't hide what was clearly written all over his face.

"Some of a bitch!" Rick exclaimed. "You did figure it out. Your in love with her!"

Daryl swallowed his bite and washed it down with a big swig of coke. He smirked at Rick over the top of his glass. It was all the answer his best friend needed.

"I'm happy for ya' man. You two belong together. Always have."

Daryl's phone buzzed. Thank goodness for that, (things were about to get bromantically awkward). "Hey, Babe," he said without thinking. _Damn this good mood_.

"Did you just call me _Babe_," Beth said with a giggle on the other end.

"That alright?"

"Only because it's you."

Daryl couldn't help the little smile that graced his face. "What's up?"

"We have a plan... I'm going down to the club district tonight with another agent, Rosita Espinoza. We're gonna canvas the district. Do a little undercover work..." Beth tried to keep her voice light, but she could practically feel the tension rolling off of Daryl through the phone line.

"Beth..."

"It's just a canvas, Daryl. Lots of backup."

"I'm comin' too."

"You're comin' to the club district," she said rather than asked, and Daryl could hear her smile.

"Problem?"

"No! Absolutely not," she teased. "Why don't you meet me at my place round about 8. We can head to the office together, and you can join the backup."

"Yep. See ya' then," he said.

"Later, Babe."

Daryl hung up the phone with another damn smile painted across his face.

"Beth and another lady agent are goin' to the club district tonight. Gonna' canvas with the ID photo we got. You feel like goin' dancin' ?"

"You askin' me out? You know I'm married, right?"

"Idiot," Daryl grumbled. "You comin' or not?"

"Yeah, I'm comin'."

"Good, 'll pick you up after supper..."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a review on your way out. Thanks so much!


	14. Chapter 14: Photographs

**Chpt 14: Photographs**

**4:20 PM:**

"No answer," Daryl grumbled.

"Here, I'll call Hines. See if he knows where she is," Rick offered. Two rings and one very impatient Daryl later, Hines picked up. "Yeah, It's Detective Grimes, we found West. Where's Beth?"

"Mandatory review. Where is he?"

"Industrial district. Guy recognized him from the ID photo. Said he's been comin' and goin' from an old office buildin' a few blocks over from the warehouse. I'll text you the address. We're ready to breach."

"Don't move. I'm on my way."

**5:10 PM:**

Vests on and guns at the ready, Daryl and Rick took point while Hines, Michonne, and Glenn headed to the back. First floor... _Clear! _ They met at the stairs and ascended military style, rotating cover and advancing. Second floor... _Clear! _At the top of the stairs, Daryl signaled for the others to spread out against the wall. With one monstrous kick, the door flew open sending a poof of dust into the air. Daryl slipped through first, followed closely by Rick. The third floor of the building housed a narrow hallway and two closed doors. Daryl signaled the other three to take the door to the right, he and Rick went left.

Daryl slid into the room first and made a quick sweep. Nothing but cobwebs and old desks filed the large, square storage room. The dust was six inches deep and nothing had been disturbed. "Daryl! Rick!"

They met Michonne, guns drawn, and followed her down the hall. Behind the second door, they found a small four room apartment still thick with dust, but obviously in use. Daryl found Glenn in the back room kneeling next to a beaten and bruised young woman wearing a pink mini cocktail dress. She was muttering inaudibly through cracked lips, voice dry and hoarse. Her hands and feet were bound and bleeding from the ties. Hines appeared in the doorway. "All clear," he said. "You need to see this."

"Paramedics are on their way," Michonne confirmed from her spot at the back window.

"I'll watch from the front," Rick said and moved to the hall window. They had to make sure West wasn't lurking close, watching or returning to his den.

"Stay with her," Daryl ordered and patted Glenn on the shoulder.

He found Agent Hines in the front room studying a wall full of photos. There were four organized groupings, two on each long wall. West had hung surveillance photos next to photos of his victims at various times during their captivity, including their postmortem display. The decline in their health and the obvious torture they had endured were well documented. Daryl moved past the Pennsylvania grouping to the Virginia and North Carolina photos. They were similarly organized, one row of surveillance photos and one row of captivity photos per girl. West was organized, deliberate, and focused. Daryl wanted five minutes alone with this sick bastard. What these women must have endured, he thought. His mind went to Beth, and he shivered. Damn if he wouldn't be glad when this case was done.

The final group of photos was small and incomplete. The pictures were stuck to the wall haphazardly, and widely spaced as if they were hung by a completely different person. Daryl recognized the first victim from the warehouse, Missy, her shortened captivity well documented. There were only two surveillance photos of Sophia, both taken with her friend Amy, the night of her abduction, and four photos of her captivity. He removed the last one, the one in which she wore the same pink dress she had on now, and flipped it over. "Michonne!"

"Yeah," she answered as she skidded to a stop next to him. His voice was urgent and commanding and it had sent her running.

"These were developed at Walgreens," he said and put them back on the wall. "Get evidence photos on your phone. You and Glenn take 'em to Walgreen's and see what you can find. I'll stay with the girl."

"Bureau CSU is on their way. We'll get this place processed and put a couple of units on surveillance," Hines offered.

Daryl nodded his thanks. "You talked to Beth?"

"No, but I left her a message. Those reviews take a couple of hours at least."

Daryl hummed in response, and an uneasy feeling settled in his gut. After seeing this shit, he just needed to touch her, to know that she was safe. He swiped at his phone and dialed her number. Voicemail. " 'S me. We found Sophia. I'm gonna go with her to the hospital. Call ya' later."

The paramedics arrived, and Daryl and Rick followed behind the ambulance. Daryl doubted if they would get anything out of her tonight. Sophia had drifted in and out of consciousness before the paramedics arrived, but he needed to know her prognosis first hand. More than that, Beth would want him too.

**5:33 PM: **

Beth scanned her security badge and stepped into the remnants of the day. Her plan was to grab food and maybe a nap and a shower before heading out to the club district. She stopped for take-out Chinese, her biggest guilty pleasure, and pointed her little red jeep for home. It was a cool October in Atlanta, but still plenty warm enough to enjoy her dinner on the balcony. She hummed along to the The Civil Wars and stretched her legs out in front of her. Her thoughts drifted to Daryl and their world wind romance. Could you even call it that, she wondered, when clearly she had loved him for years. And he loved her too. That reality nearly took her breath away. She thought about his hands, calloused yet so very gentle, especially with her. That familiar flutter stirred low in her gut. It always did when her thoughts went to Daryl. The things he could do with those hands! She giggled and shook her head.

"_Shoot!"_ she thought when she reached for her phone and realized that she had left it charging in her office. Her brain was racing and it made her careless. She needed to relax. Tonight she had to be on her toes. Clearly she fit the victim profile, and West was likely on the hunt.

Beth leaned back in her chair, slumping just enough to lay her head back and focus on the smells and colors of fall. She loved her apartment. Her balcony was at the back of the complex, and it offered a muddled view through a deep patch of old, tall trees marking the edge of a neighborhood park. The trees were changing colors, each one a brilliant shade of yellow, orange, or red. The park itself was full of trails all of which circled the pond in the center at some point along the way. She liked to run the trails and hoped that maybe, when and if her life slowed down a little, she might get a dog, a border collie, to take running with her.

She checked her watch and realized that a nap was no longer in the cards, not if she was gonna' have to get herself all gussied up for the club district, and get it done before Daryl got there. She left the sliding door open hoping the breeze would help dissipate the steam and headed for the shower.

**5:35 PM: **

"There you are sweet cheeks. That sniveling idiot couldn't find his own ass without directions. I told you I would find her," he said to the agent sitting next to him. "Now if you'll get out of my car, I'll grab her and bring her in."

He watched as one of the central figures in his intricate delusion slid into the passenger seat of a nonexistent black SUV parked behind him.

"Bastard," he grumbled as he pulled into traffic behind his mark. He followed her home, stopping when she stopped, frustrated by the interruptions. He checked his jacket pocket again and felt the syringe, 2ml Ketamine, ready to go. The familiar feel of it under his fingers set his head to pounding. "Oh no you don't," he growled as he pounded his left temple. "You stay right there you son of a bitch. I'm in charge now. You don't have the balls to do what needs to be done. Every bit of discipline and persuasion has been at my hand. You understand? It's me they fear! All you and your buddy are good for is snapping pictures and picking out dresses. What a couple of pansies."

He was sweating with the effort it took to keep control of the one body that so many of them shared. He rubbed his palms hard against his eyes and felt the pain giveaway. "That's right," he whispered. "I'm in charge."

He moved quickly to the rear of the building and waited in the shadows, watching. She slid the door open to her fourth floor balcony and ate her dinner outside as she had before. He studied her, legs outstretched onto the little table in front of her. She hummed along to the slow whine of music coming from her speakers. He wondered if she would go for a run tonight like she did the last time he stood watch. He hoped not. His head was pounding, and his boss was growing impatient. He wanted this done now, and he wanted it done quietly.

Finally, she finished the last of her cheap Chinese and headed back into her corner apartment, leaving her sliding glass door conveniently open. He watched as light from the bathroom flooded the narrow window over the shower. That was his cue. He mentally reviewed the apartment floor plan. He had been in her apartment one other time, just a few days ago. Milliken had requested reliable Intel before they attempted to bring her in. Apparently she was the one they had been looking for all this time. This op led straight to the federal building, and she was the mole. He knew it the minute he saw her in the club district nosing around where he had grabbed the girl, losing her partner in the process. This was his chance at redemption, and he'd be damned if he let this one get away. He'd be damned if he would share any of the glory either. That little bastard with the camera was out of his league with this one. He could gather his own Intel and keep that waste of breath out of his head at the same time.

He eased around the corner to the fire escape and started climbing. There was just enough of a foothold in the coining of the brick for him to slip around and grab the railing to her balcony. He eased over the side without a sound and quietly slipped through the open door. "_Good_," he thought, "_she has her music on_."

He could hear her singing in the shower. That angelic voice of hers was part of her deception. It would be his distinct pleasure to shut her up for good. He stopped at the hall closet and pulled out the oversized trunk he had found on his last visit. It would be perfect for transporting her down the elevator to his car. He drug it to the front door and lifted the lid. A wave of adrenalin rushed through him, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The plan was coming together nicely. It was euphoric. When he heard the shower stop, he moved quickly to the bedroom and slid behind the door, syringe in hand.

A cold chill ran up Beth's spine when she pulled the shower curtain back and reached for her towel. Figuring it was nothing more than nervous anticipation for tonight's op, she dried off quickly, wrapped the towel around her hair and grabbed her bra and underwear. She padded down the hallway to her bedroom and saw the tip of something blue peaking out from the corner of the bed. With a smile, she realized it was Daryl's t-shirt from last night. She shook out her hair and slipped it over her head nearly jumping out of her skin when she heard the thunderous slamming of her bedroom door.

Beth immediately spun toward the sound crouching low into a fighting stance. A shock of black hair and yellow eyes charged forward, grabbing her around the waste and pummeling her into the dresser. A 4x6 frame of her and her daddy on graduation day went careening to the floor. He pinned her down and fumbled with his jacket pocket. Beth tried to catch her breath, arms flailing in an attempt to grab anything that might be used as a weapon. Her hand found purchase around a small tortuous shell jewelry box. She brought it down with all her might against the side of his head. It made a nauseating thunk on contact, and he stumbled back. Beth hit him again for good measure, and darted past him toward the door. He dove and caught her ankle hauling her down hard, flat against the floor. She rolled and kicked her free leg with everything she had straight into his nose as he drug her closer to him. He let go and she skittered back like a crab, hopping to her feet just shy of the closed door. When she flung it open, he launched himself at it trapping her momentarily in the threshold. Beth groaned and twisted, breaking free as the bedroom door once again slammed closed. She ran down the hall, headed for the drawer of the end table where she stored her gun. He was fast, so fast. She could feel him behind her as her hand molded to the butt of the gun and her finger landed on the trigger. She spun and fired as his fist connected with her temple. The gun flew from her hand and slid across the hardwood as her world tilted and stars exploded behind her eyes. She slapped at him in exaggerated slow motion as he jerked her head to the side and yanked her hair away from her neck. She could hear someone screaming, "No! No!", over and over again in a ragged and desperate plea. Her heart sank as darkness enveloped her, and she realized that the familiar voice was that of her own.

**6:55 PM:**

"Do you recognize either one of these photos?" Glenn asked a young man in his early twenties standing behind the photo counter at Walgreen's.

"Yeah, that's one of Mr. Williams' pictures."

"What about this one," he asked holding up a picture of one of the Roanoke victims.

"I don't recognize that one, and I'm the only one he trusts to process his film," he said proudly.

"Is this Mr. Williams," Michonne asked and showed the attendant the ID picture of Gareth West.

"Yeah, that's him. Why?" he asked, smile morphing into concern.

"Doesn't this photo disturb you a little," Michonne asked pointing to the recent picture of Sophia in the pink dress, lying on the floor beaten, bruised, and bound. "Or maybe this one," she said flashing another photo of a victim.

"Not anymore."

"What does that mean, '_not anymore_,'... What, it used to bother you, but now your okay with a guy taking pictures of his victims?

"Whoaaaa... What do you mean ' victims'? Is that girl dead, for real" he asked voice climbing in octaves.

"Yes, genius," Glenn quipped. "That girl is, in fact, dead. Why didn't you report these pictures?"

"I didn't know they were dead. I thought they were acting. MMMMr. Williams said he was taking a photography class at the university. He said the students were taking set pictures for that TV show they're shooting here in Atlanta. You know, the same company that does that zombie show... He said it was called uh, uh something... 'Deception' maybe. I don't know. I can't remember, but he said they were actresses. I swear!"

"Alright. Just, settle down," Michonne said and helped the boy to a chair at the photo kiosk. "Take it easy."

"Listen... Jeremy," Glenn said, reading his name tag. "Is that your name?"

The boy nodded, pale faced and very nearly hyperventilating. Glenn continued with as much patients as he could muster. "I'm sorry, Jeremy, but I need to ask you some questions. Do you have an address or a phone number for Mr. Williams?"

"No, he never left one."

"Does he have any film here now to be developed or picked up?"

The boy stopped rocking back and forth in the chair and looked at Glenn, wide-eyed. "Yes... Yes he does... I developed them this morning!"

"When is he supposed to pick them up?"

"He said he would be back in on Thursday, I think."

"You think? I need you to know, Jeremy. Is it written on his order somewhere?"

"Yes, yes, it was Thursday because he said... he said that the pictures weren't due until Friday. You know, for his class. I wrote it on the envelope, where it says due date. You can check it," Jeremy squeaked.

"Can you get those photos for me?" Jeremy seemed to be stuck to the seat, frozen in place. "Jeremy?... Look, I need those photos, sooner rather than later." The boy nodded before turning a sickly shade of green and promptly throwing up all over Glenn's shoes.

"Son of a bitch! Are you kidding me with this," Glenn yelled while backing away from the erupting vomit volcano in front of him. Michonne ignored the boy, and grabbed the box labeled with a "W" behind the counter. "_Williams, West"_. She tore open the envelope and nearly dropped the stack of photos when she saw the face in front of her. "Glenn! Glenn, call Daryl! It's Beth!"

Michonne shot around the counter and stuck the picture under Glenn's nose. "What the..."

"Glenn!" Michonne howled and shoved the stack of photos into his chest. He instinctively grabbed at them and Michonne went for her phone.

**7:10 PM:**

With still no word from Beth, Daryl decided to shoot her a text from the hospital before heading her way. "_Leaving the hospital now. Called the safe house and let Amy know we found Sophia. Dr. says she should be fine. Just gonna' take time. See you in a few."_

He checked in with Sophia's doctor, double checked that the police guard had a photo of West and was clear on his instructions, and he and Rick started for his truck.

His phone buzzed as they exited the hospital. The caller ID read "Michonne"

"Yeah?"

"Daryl, is Beth with you?"

Every hair on the back of his neck stood up. A nauseating wave of dread washed over him. "No, why?"

"He's been watching her. Before and after your trip. We found surveillance photos of her and another girl in a stack he had developed."

"Shit!" he swore under his breath. "We're on our way to her place now," he said and took off in a run to his truck. "It's Beth," he hollered at Rick. "He's after Beth!" _Beth, Beth, Beth_ his blood pumped and screamed in his ear. He heard Michonne say something about another girl and where to find her, but nothing outside of finding Beth registered. He and Rick slid to a stop beside his old pickup and hopped in. The engine roared to life and shot forward under Daryl's heavy foot. He swiped at his phone. Voicemail. "Damn it!" he roared and swiped at it again.

Rick hit the siren and the lights and waited for Hines to pick up the phone. Traffic was heavy and Daryl was runnin' way too fast. Rick grabbed his phone before they had a wreck and kept trying Beth. Hines answered in his other ear. "Michonne called. He's targeted Beth. Me and Daryl are headed to her apartment." In his other ear, he heard Beth's melodic voice saying hello and asking him sweetly to please leave a message.

_Voicemail, End, Dial... Voicemail, End, Dial... Voicemail, End, Dial_... "Anything," Daryl asked desperately. Rick shook his head and continued his vigil. _Voicemail, End, Dial..._

**7:20 PM**:

Glenn and Michonne pulled into the parking lot at Fast Eddies. From the photographs, they deduced that the other girl he was watching was an employee. They moved with purpose to the bar and asked the bartender if he recognized the woman. He pointed to a blond hovering near a table taking an order. When she made her way back to the bar, they flashed their badges and escorted her to an empty booth in the back.

Michonne unceremoniously shoved a picture of West across the table. "Have you seen this man before?"

"No, why? What's this about?"

Nerves frayed, the Detective's were less than gentle. "This man... He's killed at least fourteen young women. We have reason to believe that he's set his sights on you."

"Wha...," she said, eyes darting back and forth between Glenn and Michonne.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Frampton. I know this is out of nowhere, but your gonna' have to come with us. We need to get you into protective custody until we can catch this guy."

"You mean now," she asked, panic evident in her voice.

"Yes, m'am," Glenn answered. "Give me your address, and I'll have a unit meet us there. You can pack a bag, and we'll get you set up in a safe house."

"You sure you've never seen this guy? Maybe he's been in here before? You waited on him or saw him near your home?" Michonne asked, desperate for clues.

"I'm sorry. I don't recognize him."

"It's okay," Glenn assured her. "Don't worry. We'll explain everything on the way. You'll be safe."

**7:48 PM:**

Daryl flew up the stairs to Beth's apartment, Rick hot on his heels. Guns drawn, they slowed as they approached Beth's door. Bile rose to the back of Daryl's throat when he saw it standing open. They breached the threshold, Daryl going left, Rick going right. "Beth! Beth!," Rick heard his friend holler, but he knew it was no use. The scene in front of him assured him of that. He scanned the open living room and small kitchen area, squatting next to Beth's gun where it lay abandoned on the hardwood floor. Pale yellow sheers danced on the breeze from the open balcony door. Drops of fresh blood stood out against the pale yellow and mint green of the couch. The lamp on the end table dangled upside down against it, suspended only by the power cord.

"Anything," Daryl asked from behind him. Rick swiveled on his toes, still crouched down next to Beth's gun.

"She got a shot off, but the only blood is on that couch. You?"

"Shower's still damp. There 'as a struggle in the bedroom. Beth's gonna' be pissed when she sees her little turtle box. Drag marks from the hall closet to the front door. Maybe a suit case?"

Daryl's breaths were ragged and quick. He was close to losing it and Rick, quite frankly, had no idea what to say to calm him down. When their eyes finally locked, Daryl pursed his lips, but it didn't hide the fine tremor in his lower lip, nor could he mask the sheen of tears welling in his eyes. Rick stood and parked himself toe to toe with his best friend. "We'll get her back," he promised, deadly serious, with no room for doubt.

Noise from the hallway had them raising their guns and eyeing the door. "Federal Agent!"

"Apartments clear," Rick hollered back, and Agent Hines appeared in the doorway. Daryl took a minute to gather his emotions while Rick talked to Hines about what they knew.

"I'll get another CSU team over here. We'll get any and all surveillance footage from inside and around the building. Anything near here too, traffic cams, all of it. We'll figure out how he got her out of here and what he's driving. Oh, and the other girl, the one from the photos. Your team picked her up. She's safe. We're gonna use her to get this guy and find Beth."

"Wait. What? You can't do that. It's too dangerous," Daryl said once it registered through the thick fog in his brain just exactly what it was Hines was implying.

"She'll be well covered, Detective. Agents everywhere. If West comes for her, we'll grab him. It may be our only shot at getting Beth back."

"No," Daryl said. "Beth wouldn't like it... Using somebody like that."

"No, she wouldn't," Hines admitted, "but it's already a done deal. The kid at Walgreens told your man that West is due back Thursday to pick up the pictures. We'll keep a detail there too."

Daryl drew in a long deep breath. "Damn. That's three days. Rick, call in some units and get a canvas started. Have 'em show his picture to everyone in this building. Maybe somebody saw something."

"Yep," he said and pulled out his phone.

**9:18 PM:**

Daryl stood stock still surveying the living room yet again, watching the CSU team with his back to the door. His stomach churned as he pieced together what must have happened. Unbidden mental images of Beth being overpowered, drugged, and tossed around shook him to the bone. He was vaguely aware of a firm hand on his shoulder and a voice calling his name. He looked up to find Rick planted in front of him. "Hey. You okay?"

Daryl sniffed and nodded once in answer. "Good, 'cause we got company," he said and tilted his chin to the door.

Daryl looked back over his shoulder and spun on his heel. Agent Phillip Blake filled the threshold to the apartment, eyes scanning the crime scene in front of him. With a primal growl, Daryl launched himself at him, driving his shoulder into Blake's chest and sending him careening across the hallway to the floor. Before he could even slide to the ground, Daryl was on top of him, hauling him up and pinning him to the wall, his forearm pressed hard against Blake's throat. "Where is she," he screamed, spittle bathing Blake's face. "Where the hell's Beth you piece 'a shit!"

Blake clawed at Daryl's arm, eyes huge, cheeks purple from lack of oxygen. Rick and Hines pulled at Daryl, but he didn't budge. "Tell me where she is!"

"Daryl! He can't tell you anything if he can't breath! Let go!" A desperate, frustrated growl rumbled from Darryl's chest, and he finally pulled back. Blake slid to the floor. Hines knelt down next to him keeping him down for his own safety. Rick stepped between Daryl and the slumped Agent, a warning clearly written across his face. Daryl started to pace. He stomped back and forth like a caged animal, tightly coiled and ready to spring. Rick watched him closely knowing his friend well enough to know that round two was coming shortly.

Blake coughed and sputtered and slowly started to stand with the help of Agent Hines. Daryl shot forward, but Rick was ready and caught him from behind holding him back as best he could. Daryl pointed at Agent Hines. "I want him in custody! Ya' hear me? Arrest him for his own protection if ya have to 'cause I promise you, anything happens to Beth, and his ass is mine!"

Blake leaned against the wall still drawing ragged breaths. "I don't know where she is, Detective," he said, voice hoarse and strained. "If I did, I would tell you. I care about her too."

"Bull shit! You don't care about any of them girls. If you did, you would 'a come clean a long time ago!"

"Come clean with what exactly? What does it matter that he's my son? I haven't seen him in twenty years..."

"You could 'a stopped this before it ever started! You went to Pennsylvania and you cleaned up his mess instead 'a helpin' to catch him. All those dead girls are on you, just as sure as if you'd killed 'em yourself." Daryl's chest was heaving and his fists were pumping. It was all he could do not to pound Blake into the ground.

Blake stood to his full height and Rick put a hand around Daryl's wrist just in case. "You can stand there and judge me if it makes you feel better, but the only thing I'm guilty of is trying to protect my son."

"At what expense," Daryl fired back

Blake had no answer, but he still stood proud, not sorry at all for his deception. Hines nudged Blake in the back. "Come on. Let's go."

Blake stopped just past Daryl and turned again to face him. "Let me know when you find her," he said. "I'd like to know she's okay. Like I said, Detective, she's my friend too."

"Son of a..." Daryl plowed past Rick and landed a right hook square across Blake's jaw. He went down like a box of rocks, landing hard on the floor. "You stay the hell away from her! Ya got me?" Daryl spat on the floor next to Blake driving his point home.

A/N: So this was hard to write with the bouncing between time and place. Hope it flowed okay. Please review! All comments and criticisms greatly appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15: Delusions and Personality

A/N Warning: This one is pretty graphic in reference to violence / torture.

**Chpt 15: Delusions and Personality**

The harder she tried to focus, the more the world around her spun. Swallowing bile, she shut her eyes and waited for the wave of nausea to pass. When she tried to move and couldn't, confusion gave way to panic. Her ankles and wrists were bound with duct tape, and she was being bounced around like a sack of potatoes. Beth tried to calm her nerves and focus on her surroundings. A car.. she was in the back seat of a car... under a blanket that smelled like mildew. The car was moving quickly and someone up front was angry.

"Son of a bitch," he screamed. "This is your fault, you little bastard! They must have followed you! She must have known you were watching her. Well guess what, I am not taking the fall for you. If Milliken wants somebody's ass for this, he can have yours, not mine!"

The car jerked to the right, fish tailed in the loose gravel, and skidded to a stop. Beth slid off the back seat and landed hard on the floor board. Her head throbbed and her stomach rolled, but she did her best to keep her breathing level and even.

The front door opened and slammed shut. Beth closed her eyes against the blinding light from the overhead interior. She could hear him stomping and ranting outside of the car. While she had, at first, thought there were two people in the car, it appeared that she was now alone. She drew her feet to her chest and tried to rip at the duct tape wound tightly around her ankles, but it was no use. She bit at the tape around her wrists, chewing, pulling, tugging, accidentally biting her lip in the process. Desperate tears steamed down her face unbidden. "_Keep it together, girl,"_ she told herself, the voice in her head sounding gruff and familiar.

The back door flew open and she was drug feet first from the car to the gravel. Rough hands pulled her up by her shirt and tossed her over his shoulder. Beth opened her eyes to see dirt and gravel beneath black boots then two wooden steps. She heard the squeak of a screen door and the slam of a solid door before she was thrown effortlessly onto a bed. Her head felt too heavy to lift and her mouth was as dry as old bones. He didn't seem to notice that she had woken from her drug induced sleep. "_Good_," she thought as she cracked one eye open and surveyed her surroundings.

She was in a camper, as far from the front door as she could be. West was pacing up and down the short, narrow hallway slamming his fists against his temples, still raging at a non-existent foe. He stopped suddenly and pulled to his full height, stock still. Beth held her breath, bracing for the worst, but it didn't come. Instead, she heard the front door slam, and a car start just outside the camper. She rolled to her back and listened, taking a minute to tap down the wave of nausea that seemed to accompany even the slightest of movements.

The car sped away, throwing dirt and gravel against the side of the camper. Beth slid from the bed and landed hard on her knees and bound hands. She inched her way down the hall to a small kitchen area. There were two drawers, one on each side of a tiny sink. In the second drawer, she found a steak knife and set to work on the duct tape around her ankles. Her wrists were harder to free, but she balanced the knife between her feet and slid it under the tape at her wrists. She moved as quickly as she could, stabbing her hand twice in her frantic haste, but she barely noticed. At last, the duct tape split, freeing her wrists.

Beth threw open the front door and took off for the woods, bare feet sinking and sloshing through the mud and muck of the forest floor. She bounded over a fallen log and took refuge behind it needing a second to try and orient herself to her surroundings. The camper was shrouded by dark woods. A tramped down road consisting mostly of dirt and sparse gravel cut through the woods, disappearing around a bend. Beth decided to follow the road, sticking close to the edge of the woods for cover. She moved as quickly as her bare feet would carry her on legs that felt like lead, every step requiring more effort than the last. Her vision was still a little blurry causing her typically sure footed steps to faulter on the uneven ground. She swallowed hard against the nausea. _You got this, girl. _She could hear Daryl in her head, smell him on the shirt she was wearing, his shirt, the one she had found peaking out from under the bed. That's when she remembered their plan. He was supposed to meet her at her place for the op. He would have been there by now which meant he knew she had been taken. Beth took strength in knowing that Daryl was looking for her, that he would never stop looking for her, and she picked up the pace, stumbling over roots and rocks, but moving forward just the same.

She had been traveling for twenty minutes or more down the dirt road that seemed to never end when her feet hit concrete. She had two choices, right or left, and absolutely no way of knowing what lie in either direction. Just as she broke into a run to the right, a car appeared from around the curve spotlighting her with the headlights. Beth froze._ It can't be him. Please, please..._ The car sped in her direction coming to a screeching halt as Beth dove into the woods. She ran through the high grass and thin brush aiming for a thicket of tall trees when, _Woosh_! Her breath flew from her chest and her head slammed against a rock. She immediately saw stars and rolled to her side, spewing what was left on her stomach. She was barely aware when he hauled her up by her hair and drug her to the trunk of his car. Her last vision was of his manic eyes as his head slammed hard into hers sending her careening into darkness.

**~TWD~**

Daryl hung up the phone, worry and shame clouding his face. "That Chief Greene," Rick asked.

Daryl's fingers rubbed together, a nervous habit. He really wanted a smoke, but it had been years since he had lit one. That was another one of Beth's doings. She had helped him quit after making that demand early in their friendship. She had even make him pinky promise (whatever the hell that was) to never start up again, even if he was the last man standing. He'd done it of course, and he was better for it. But, damn, what he wouldn't give for a Marlboro light right about now. "Yeah. I called him."

"How'd it go?"

"He's gonna' meet us at the federal building. Wants to look at everything himself."

"I'll tell Hines. We can all head that way."

Daryl nodded and took one more look around Beth's apartment. He refused to grieve. She wasn't dead, just... gone, but only temporarily if he had anything to say about it. _Hold on, Beth. I'm comin'._

**~TWD~**

When Beth woke, she knew she was in more trouble than before. Pain cut through the fog as she attempted to push off of the cold concrete floor to a sitting position. Bright fluorescent lights accosted her retinas and the taste of metal and vomit caused saliva to pool in her mouth. She swallowed against a dry throat, coughing against the burn, head nearly bursting with the effort. Her ankles and wrists were again bound tightly with duct tape, but this time, a heavy rope had also been tied around her wrists and secured to a metal ring mounted to the wall. Beth recognized her prison immediately. She was in the warehouse where this whole thing began.

She flinched when West materialized from the shadows. "Good. You're awake," he said sardonically and squatted down in front of her. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you?" Beth leaned away from him, from the evil he carried in his eyes. "Not in the mood to talk? I left word with Milliken. Told him I have you. It usually takes a few days before I get my orders, but I'm bettin' he shows up pretty quick this time. He's got quite the boner for you, sweet cheeks."

Beth watched him, vision blurry, while he talked, and tried to form a quick profile. He was rough and sarcastic, and he enjoyed making her flinch. She would have to be more careful, more controlled. He seemed to believe that she knew who Milliken was, and her lack of participation in the conversation frustrated him. This Gareth West was very different from the man she had expected. Based on what they knew of his history and his crimes, she had assumed him to be soft spoken, meek even... the kind of guy you probably wouldn't notice in a crowd. The man in front of her was loud and animated. You would definitely notice him if only to make sure and stay clear of him.

"Hey!" He snapped his fingers in front of her nose. "Pay attention." Beth blinked and tried to focus. "So?"

She shook her head, not understanding what he was asking.

"I said, what did you do to make the list?"

"The list," she asked, voice rough and painful.

"Are you stupid? What - did - you - do - to make the list," he spit, frustration mounting.

"I don't know," she said in earnest.

A slow satisfied smile slid across his face. "Wrong answer, doll." He stood up, feet wide, arms crossed, and raked his eyes over Beth. He sized her up the way a predator would his prey. Slowly, he reached for his back pocket and pulled out a huge serrated blade. He spun it in his hand, grinning and loathsome. Without warning, he lunged at Beth and grabbed her bound ankles, yanking her flat to the floor. She screamed in spite of herself, eyes wide in horror. He swung his leg over the top of her and sat painfully across her thighs, his back filing her vision as she sat up and beat her fists against him, thrashing, trying desperately to wiggle out from underneath him. The back of her knees slammed into the concrete when he leaned forward and drug the edge of the blade slowly across the ball of her foot carving a deep furrow in the the thick, sensitive flesh. She gasped, but the air seemed to stick in her throat. She couldn't breath and she couldn't scream. Rigid with shock, she started to shake. As quickly as he had pinned her to the concrete, he was up and cleaning the blade off on his jeans. Beth watched horified as blood pooled around her feet painting the concrete floor scarlet.

He fell to his knees in front of her, the blade clattering to the ground and grabbed his head in obvious agony. He growled and clawed at the floor as if he were fighting his way out of quicksand, hissing through his teeth, drool falling from his lips. Just as suddenly, he quieted, collapsing on his back, unmoving. Beth pulled her knees to her chest, lightheaded and terrified at what might be coming next.

Again without warning, he popped up, seemingly confused at first. Taking stock of his surroundings, the tension lifted from his shoulders and he relaxed. He hustled over to Beth and fell to his knees next to her. She rolled away from him and tucked herself against the wall. "What did he do," he whispered more to himself than to her and pulled off his jacket to wrap it around her foot. "Here, try to keep some pressure on that. I'll be right back." Tears streaked Beth's face, but pain, confusion, and fear kept her silent.

He returned a few minutes later carrying a stack of shop towels and a first aid kit. "Let me see," he said and pulled the jacket away. He inspected her foot and turned compassionate eyes on hers. "I'll try to be easy, but it's got to be cleaned and bandaged. You hang in there, okay?" Beth felt herself nod in response. He scrubbed the wound with antiseptic and Beth bit down on her lip to stifle her wince. "I'm sorry," he said and blew on the wound to cool it. It was surreal, watching him tend to her foot with empathy and kindness. "You're gonna' need stitches sweet girl. I'm so sorry."

Beth focused on his face and tried to get a handle on what this personality was all about. The man kneeling at her feet was a caregiver, kind and sympathetic. The man who inflicted the wound was a brute, unpredictable and dangerous. She suspected neither was Garret West.

"Be brave, angel. I put some numbing cream on it, but I'm afraid it's still gonna hurt when I go to stitchin'..." He laid his needle holders, his suture and his bandaging material neatly on one of the shop towels and looked at Beth again. He pat her knee kindly. "You ready?"

When he finished suturing the wound, he bandaged it neatly and sat back on his heals surveying his work. "I don't have any pain medicine. I'm sorry."

Beth shook her head. "Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome, sweet girl. I'm gonna go and get you something to drink."

She returned this time with a bucket of water in one arm and a drink in the other. She handed Beth a can of cold coca-cola and patted her back kindly. Beth took a sip and felt the burn as it trailed down her throat and into her chest. The man in front of her hummed under his breath while he cleaned up the mess of blood and supplies.

"You're not Gareth are you?"

"Oh, heavens no," he chuckled. "That boy would have passed out at the first site of blood."

"What's your name," Beth asked cautiously.

He smiled sweetly. "Names don't really matter too much now do they. But you can call me Nana. That's what my boy calls me."

"You mean Gareth?"

Nana smiled affectionately. "How do you know him?"

"I... I don't really. I just know of him." Beth ventured way out on a limb, praying her hunch wouldn't lead to more trouble. "He was kind to an acquaintance of mine... Andrea Kirkman. She spoke very highly of him... Do you know her?"

Nana sighed deeply and paused in her work. "Andrea Kirkman," she repeated regretfully. "Yep. I know her. That poor girl is the one that started this whole mess. Nearly broke my boy's heart in half. That's when Bull and Little Man showed up."

Beth scooted gingerly back to rest against the wall. "Gareth helped her with her math."

"Yes, Gareth is excellent with figures and computers. My boy is smart, so smart, but he has a little trouble with people, you know? He's shy, quiet... but he's a good boy."

Beth surmised that Nana was a female personality, a grandmother figure of sorts, and she clearly cared about Gareth. "You've been with Gareth always? From the start?"

"Yes, sweet girl. I've been with Gareth his entire life. Raised him the best I could under the circumstances." Her chin jetted up in defiance.

"I'm sure you did," Beth agreed sincerely. Nana seemed to accept the olive branch. Beth swallowed hard before pressing further. "How long have the others been with Gareth?"

"Others," Nana asked, although Beth was certain by the inflection in her voice that Nana knew exactly what she meant.

"Yes. Like the one that did this to me," Beth said patiently.

"Oh, you mean Bull. He's been coming around for a couple years or more. He's got a temper to be sure, that one. It's good that I'm here to clean up the messes."

"How many are there, Nana?"

Nana took a deep breath and swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. She shook her head once as if she were shaking her bangs out of her face. "You have to stop asking questions now, sweet girl. I can't lose my boy. It scares me. Little Man with the camera, he's already gone. Gone for good, I'm afraid. He and Bull work for a terrible figure of a man. I hate what they do, mostly because it keeps Gareth so stirred up." She stared at nothing in particular, lost in her own thoughts. Beth barely dared to breath.

"He sent Little Man away, you know... Bull did," she said and turned her attention back to Beth. "He wants to get rid of Gareth too. You make him mad, you make him stronger. You remember that, sweet angel girl." Sweat rolled down Nana's face, but the room was cool. Beth could see the change coming. It was horrifying yet fascinating, like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

"Don't make him mad," she panted, breaths coming in stutters. "He don't know about me same as Gareth don't know about him." Nana closed her eyes and pressed the heels of her hands hard into her temples. She fell forward, gagging and retching. It was terrifying how his entire being transformed, from the way he carried himself to his voice and mannerisms. This new character that emerged looked at her in shock, like a deer in the headlights. He was scared, eyes wide in confusion. Those eyes landed on her, and she watched as the confusion gave way to recognition and understanding.

"Andrea?"

"Gareth," Beth asked, voice trembling and weak..

Joy and relief flooded his face. "You know my name... It's really you, isn't it sweetheart? Finally, after all this time..." Tears welled in his eyes, falling freely down his cheeks as he reached for Beth.

**A/N. Dark and creepy, I hope. Let me know what you think!**


	16. Chapter 16: Bull

**A/N: Thank you for your patience! I tossed this chapter at least four times before finally settling on what you are about to read. Fingers crossed!**

**Chpt 16: Gareth et al**

"I've missed you so much," he said and squeezed her hands, unfazed by her bound wrists. "Have you missed me too?"

Beth swallowed hard, praying her next move was the right move. She felt like she was locked in a life or death game of chess, and it scared the snot out of her. "I've been here by myself, waiting for you to come back... Gareth, I want you to look at me. Really look at me."

He studied her obediently, her face, her hair, her body. He blinked hard as the memory of Andrea melded with the image of Beth in front of him. He grabbed his head with both hands, pulling at his hair and winced.

"Gareth! Stay with me, Gareth... Please don't leave me," she pleaded.

His head popped up, and she saw the fear in his eyes. "I told you to leave things be, sweet girl."

"Nana! Don't go!"

"I'm sorry, angel. I have to. You be strong for me."

"Please! Send Gareth back!"

"I can't. I'm so sorry, sweet girl. He's just not strong enough." The fear and anguish in Nana's eyes set Beth's teeth on edge.

Gareth fell limp to the floor, and Beth held her breath. She had to remember not to push Gareth. She knew now that he couldn't exist outside of his own reality. A scant few moments later, he popped up, growling and spitting. Beth whimpered, knowing full well who was back in charge.

"I see Milliken sent a medic in to stitch you up," Bull said and kicked the bottom of her bandaged foot. Somehow she managed to not react. He was pissed, and Beth was scared.

"You think you're pretty tough, huh?"

Beth sat very still and watched him, watching her. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her maliciously, enjoying the upper hand. He jumped at her, gauging her reaction, amused when Beth flinched pulling her knees to her chest and shielding her face with her hands. "Not so tough..."

On a hunch, Beth cut him off. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, do you," she challenged, voice surprisingly steady with just the hint of a warning.

His right eye twitched almost imperceptibly, and she knew she had his attention. Bull was in it for the glory, for the thrill of being in charge. Men with power can be manipulated. She could use that to her advantage, she thought, as long as she didn't push too hard. "You really think Milliken is gonna' give you any credit for this? You obviously don't know him very well."

His eyes jumped back and forth between hers. She had him thinking, second guessing his next move. "I could put Milliken on his ass before he ever knew what hit him."

"I'm sure you could," she agreed, "but it's not about strength, it's about smarts... opportunity. He sees you as a mindless pack mule, Bull. Did you know that?"

He pulled up short at her knowledge and use of his name.

"How... When did..." He grabbed his head and started to pace. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his face flushed an angry, purply red. He pulled hard on his hair and sank to his knees with a roar. Beth held tight to the hope that Nana or Gareth would return in his stead.

On his hands and knees, he shifted his attention back toward her. A cold, thin lipped smile slid slowly across his face. "You're gonna' tell me how you know Milliken and then you're gonna tell me what you did to make the list."

"I'll tell you everything... on one condition."

He eyed her suspiciously.

"I want to talk to Gareth."

He didn't expect that, not even close judging by the look on his face. "What the hell does that piss ant have to do with anything?"

"Oh come on, Bull," she said setting up a little straighter. "Think about it. He's always been a part of this... long before you showed up. Let me talk to him."

He was confused, unsure of his next step, and it was making him weak. He kept rubbing his temples and shaking his head. Sweat rolled off his brow, soaking his t-shirt.

"Let me talk to Gareth," she pushed.

"No," he said and started to pace pressing the heal of his hands hard against his eyes.

"Let me talk to Gareth, and then I'll tell you everything."

"No!," he demanded, breathing hard and fast, barely maintaining control. Beth shrugged as if to say "your choice", seemingly unaffected by his outburst. She was so vastly different from the other girls. He wasn't sure how to handle her lack of fear. It made him angry, but he needed to be careful. If she was telling the truth, if Milliken and Gareth were up to something behind his back, then he needed her.

"Let me talk to Gareth, Bull."

"Shut up!," he screamed and dropped to the ground next to her. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The back of his hand connected with her cheek leaving an angry red splotch in its wake. Beth's had whipped to the side sending a shock wave through her already concussed brain. Fueled by adrenaline, she recovered quickly and turned her face back to her captor, boldly meeting his glare with one of her own.

"I'll give you that one," she retorted, voice deep and controlled, "but you should tread lightly. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Bull recoiled as if Beth had been the one to slap_ him_. He backed away from her, shock and confusion evident on his face. He tried to stand, but his knees gave way, and he landed hard on the concrete floor. He folded in on himself in a fetal like position, pulling hard on his hair, breaths rough and quick. Beth watched, deathly silent, from the shadow of her prison as his body went slack and his breaths evened out. She watched him sleeping and wondered at how exhausting it must be to house so many distinct personalities. Exhausted herself, it wasn't long before sleep drug her under where she lay tethered and tucked against the wall.

**~TWD~**

Daryl and Chief Green parted ways early the next morning. They had spent hours combing through the old evidence and, especially, the new. Daryl respected Hershel Greene, cared about him as a mentor and as a friend. Those feelings were freely reciprocated. Chief Greene had always had a soft spot for Daryl and for Rick too, for that matter. He trusted them, depended on them to handle the tough cases. He was grateful it was the two of them and their team tasked with finding his only daughter and bringing her home. Something in his eyes, in his expression and voice told Daryl that Chief Greene knew about Beth and Daryl's relationship. He took Daryl by the shoulder as they stood to leave and looked him straight in the eye. "Son, I know you're gonna' do everything you can to bring her home. That's all I can ask."

When Daryl finally made it home, the clock read 4:24 AM. He had held it together for as long as he could, but fear and exhaustion were a bad combination. He landed flat on his back across his bed, tears streaming quietly down his cheeks, her name on his lips as he slipped into a restless sleep. A scant two hours later he startled awake, "_Beth_!" In his dreams, he had found her, had been close enough to grab her, but West had been there too, a step closer, syringe in hand. He had jerked her head back and buried a needle deep into her neck. Beth fell lifeless to the floor as he screamed her name, jolting himself awake. He looked at the clock, surprised at the late hour. He had only meant to grab a short nap before heading back to the precinct.

He was behind his desk by 8:00 and on the phone with Agent Hines. A man from Beth's apartment complex had seen a man fitting their description toss an oversized travel trunk into the back of a red Ford Taurus and head north. An APB had been issued immediately, but no luck so far. Tech was combing through traffic cam footage as they spoke looking for West. North of Beth's apartment, you could merge onto one of three highways or you could take the downtown loop and end up anywhere in Atlanta. _Another damn dead end_. Daryl hung up the phone to find Rick seated next to his desk, flanked by Michonne, and Glenn.

"What's our next move," Michonne asked.

"You two go to the hospital. See what the girl can tell us. Hines said somebody at Beth's apartment complex saw West put a trunk in the back of a red Taurus. Said the tires and doors were covered in mud. There's a campground 'bout 40 miles north of Beth's place. We're gonna' check it out. See if the mud could've come from there." It was a long shot, Daryl knew that, but he couldn't leave any stone unturned.

Daryl drove. He always drove. Rick always strategized and planned while Daryl drove, agreeing or disagreeing with Rick's plans mostly through a series of grunts and mumbles. If he had any real problem with Rick's ideas, he would put forth his own plan and the two would talk it through until they came up with a solution they were both okay with. It's just how they rolled, and it worked well. They were a great team, similar at their core, hardworking, selfless, and heroic. Where they differed, they were complimentary.

Today was no different. Daryl drove in silence. Rick could see the worry in the set of his jaw and in the crease between his eyes. "How ya' holdin' up , brother?"

Daryl shot a sideways glance at his partner and best friend. He mumbled and shook his head. The truth was, he was scared shitless at what might be happening to Beth as they sat safe and sound in his old truck. His heart felt heavy enough to fall right through his chest. He wasn't sure it was even still beating without her. He couldn't eat. He couldn't breathe. He was desperate to find her, barely holding it together. "Just gotta' find her," he said in summation.

They turned from the pavement onto the the mostly dirt road leading into the campground. A small sign that read "office" pointed to a sharp turn that Daryl nearly missed. Rick's phone rang. "It's Michonne. Go ahead, I'll catch up." It didn't take long for her to tell him that Sophia was another dead end. Rick hung up the phone deflated. Sophia had spent what she knew of her captivity in the room where they found her. Rick grabbed the door handle and headed for the office. Daryl nearly ran him over when he came bursting through the door, charging toward the truck.

"They recognized him. He paid 'em for six months in long term. It's up there," Daryl explained pointing to a heavily wooded area beyond the dirt road from where they were parked, "deep in those woods."

He slammed the truck in reverse and and jerked to a stop, spinning the car away from the office and back onto the dirt road. "She said to look for number 18. They only have three long term spots. Most folks are short term renters, a week at a time. These spots are secluded, surrounded by woods."

"I'll call Hines," Rick offered.

Daryl and Rick bounced around in the truck like jumping beans as Daryl navigated the pot holed dirt road. "18!" Rick shouted and pointed straight ahead. The dirt road disappeared beneath the heavy cover of tall pine trees and evergreens. The truck slid to a stop in front of an old Winnebago with Pennsylvania plates. The Detectives drew their guns and flattened their backs to the camper, one on each side of the door. At the count of three, Rick yanked the screen door open and Daryl charged through the open front door, Rick hot on his heels. Daryl's eyes shot directly to the duct tape and blood droplets on the the kitchen floor. He squatted next to them and picked up a yellow braided bracelet with a silver sun charm that he recognized immediately. Beth always wore that bracelet and at least two more on her left wrist to hide her scar.

Daryl brought the bracelet to his lips and hung his head, eyes closed, praying she was still okay. With a deep breath, he forced himself to stand. Rick had moved past him to check the bedroom. _Clear_...

"She was here. This is hers," Daryl said and held the bracelet out for Rick to see before tucking it into his front pocket. Daryl knew it was hers because he had been the one to give it to her. She reminded him of the sun, a light in his dark world. He gave her the bracelet for her birthday, the little square box wrapped in the Sunday comics. He remembered how brightly she had smiled when he handed it to her and she saw Snoopy on the paper. That's when he found out about her love for all things_ Peanuts_. She had slipped the bracelet over her delicate wrist and looked up at him through her lashes. "It's the sun," he mumbled, and her smile grew. "I know... I love it," she said and he got the feeling she completely understood what he was trying to tell her. He wasn't sure what to make of it when he saw her wearing it that day, not so long ago at the warehouse when he first saw her again after three years apart. It was the same day that he had realized there was no getting over Beth Greene.

"She got away?" Rick asked anxiously.

"Looks like it. Hines on his way?"

Rick nodded in affirmation.

"I'm gonna see if I can track her. You see if you can find anything in here."

Daryl easily picked up her trail a few feet from the camper. She was barefoot and moving quickly. He followed her trail as it paralleled the dirt road they had traveled in the truck. _Good girl. Follow the road, but stay hidden in the trees_. He could see exactly where she exited the woods, but there was no way to track her movements on pavement. He combed the junction of woods and road, first to the left... nothing... then to the right. His heart clenched when he saw the muddled trail left by a pair of bare feet and a pair of heavily booted feet. Both sets disappeared into the woods, but only one set tracked back. Behind it, evidence that something had been dragged.

Shaking and numb, Daryl traced the booted path into the edge of the woods to where it ended at a rock faintly smeared with blood. Vomit pooled in a curdled mess next to the rock. Daryl stumbled back and fell to his knees. Arms limp at his side, he sobbed for what happened here, for what was happening now, the likes of which he couldn't imagine, and for the cold, empty future that lay ahead should Beth not return.

As his sobs faded into quiet tears and quick sniffs, a tingle ran down his spine, and he knew, without a doubt, that Beth was alive. He just had to find her and soon. She wouldn't give up, not again. She wasn't that same little girl that she had been when she lost her mother and her baby brother. She had come trough that tragedy, almost a tragedy herself, strong and confident. He had seen the scar the night he took a bullet to the shoulder.

HIs injury was minor, all things considered, but the could've bens sat heavy in the room even as his team gathered around his hospital bed talking a little too loudly and joking inappropriately. They could either laugh or admit to the reality of what could be for anyone of them, at any time, doing the work that they did. Beth lingered as the last of their friends said their "see you laters". It was an unspoken rule that cops never said "goodbye". Beth, for one, hated goodbyes, always had.

She thought he was sleeping when she took his hand between hers, inadvertently exposing her wrist. He lay quietly, eyes heavily lidded watching her long, delicate fingers as they caressed his rough and calloused ones. When he saw the scar, he reached across and pulled her wrist closer swiping his thumb over the ropey pucker of skin. Beth flinched, but she didn't pull away.

He didn't ask, just lifted his eyes to hers and scooted over with a grunt inviting her to sit. Beth hiked her hip up onto the bed and slid in across from him. She continued to play with his fingers, but she looked him straight in the eyes as she told him how her mother and her brother, the baby boy she had loved as if he were her very own, had died in a hit and run accident not far from their home. She told him how Hershel Greene had turned to the bottle for answers, abandoning his faith and his daughter in turn. She had felt so alone... angry, heartbroken and empty. She said that she had never actually made the conscious decision to end her life, she had just needed to feel _something_, anything.

When she punched the mirror and picked up the broken glass, it was like she had stepped outside of herself watching as jagged glass tore through pale flesh, blood dripping from her wrist to pool on the bathroom floor. She knew immediately that she had made a mistake. Dropping to her knees, she pulled a towel from the rack and screamed for her daddy. That's when her Aunt Deanna had shown up and the, then Assistant, Chief Greene had taken a leave of absence to pull himself out of the bottle, returning to his faith and to his daughter a better, stronger man. They had been each others cornerstone ever since.

When Beth finished her story, she promised Daryl that she wasn't that lost little girl anymore, and asked him if he could ever see past her scar. He had, rather uncharacteristically, raised her wrist to his lips and whispered, "We all got scars, girl. Just glad you're here to show me yours."

She was braver than him, always had been. Hadn't he been the one to hide his scars, afraid of what Beth might think or say at their revealing? He prayed that she would stay brave, stay strong, and know that he would never stop looking for her

_I'm comin', Beth. Hold on for me, girl._

**~TWD~**

Beth woke with a start alone, facing the wall, on the warehouse floor. There were no windows, no clue as to how much time had passed since she was taken. The lost time was unsettling in and of itself. She wondered how Daryl was doing, knowing he was probably going crazy right now looking for her. Closing her eyes against the dull ache in her head, she silently called to him. _Find me, Daryl. Please hurry_.

She rolled to her back and caught sight of Bull just before he slammed his foot into her ribs. "Wake up, bitch! You and I need to talk."

Coughing and gasping, Beth knew immediately that her ribs were broken. Bull stood over her holding the serrated blade he had used to slice her foot. Too winded and pained to recoil, she could only wait and watch for his next move. He grabbed her wrists and Beth closed her eyes still trying to find her breath. Her hands jerked back and forth as he sawed through the rope that chained her to the wall. Her reprieve was short-lived, however, when he drug her to the center of the room and hung her from the motor hook by her bound wrists. She was just tall enough to touch the tips of her toes to the concrete floor.

Bull stepped back and studied her. "I talked to Milliken last night," he said, obviously pleased with that discussion. "He and I have reached an... understanding. He has questions, and I'm in charge of getting the answers."

Beth met his eyes defiantly.

"He'll be here shortly. Until then, maybe this will loosen your tongue." He reared back and punched her hard in the jaw, landing a right hook at he corner of her mouth and nose. The heavy motor hook swayed from the force of the blow lifting Beth momentarily from the ground. Pain shot from her wrists as her suspended weight caused the duct tape to cut deeper into the flesh over her scar.

She refused to react. Her best chance at getting rid of Bull was to either confuse him or frustrate him. She knew it would cost her. She just hoped the price wouldn't be too high. Bull never went away without a fight, but she had to try. Sure enough, he set his jaw in anger. "Why aren't you scared," he demanded.

Beth licked her lip and spat the blood back at his feet. He roared in anger and pulled his fist back to throw another punch. She closed her eyes and blew out her breath, holding her stomach muscles as taut as possible and waited for the blow, but it never came. She heard him scream, and opened her eyes to see Bull writhing on the floor, panting, banging his head and his chest with his fists.

_Please, please..._

Moments later, he popped up and scurried over to her. "Oh sweet girl, I told you not to make him mad."

"Nana," she breathed, so grateful for her presence.

"Let me look at 'cha, angel."

"Nana, you have to help me get out of here."

Nana turned Beth's head this way and that examining the damage. "Oh I couldn't do that, child. I'm sorry. Now let me look at ya'."

"Nana listen! Please, just help me down. I can help you get rid of Bull... bring Gareth back for good... Please. I can help him."

Nana stepped back from Beth, glassy eyed. She looked as if she could see right through Beth. She tilted her head and recognition flooded her eyes. Her lower lip started to tremble, tears welling in her eyes. "Andrea?"

"Gareth! Yes, Gareth, it's me. Please can you help me down? We need to get out of here. You and I, we can go together, I just need a little help..."

"Yes, yes, of course," he agreed without hesitation. His eyes flew around the room in search of a step stool, something, anything, to give her leverage to lift her wrists from the hook. He knew he was too week to lift her. How on earth did she get up there in the first place?

"Gareth, cup your hands and put them under my feet. We'll lift together." He did what she asked. "On three... one, two, three..." Beth's hands lifted from the hook just as Gareth grabbed his head and stumbled back away from her. Beth hit the ground hard at an awkward angle and felt her ankle snap. She had only a moment to catch her breath before Bull was hauling her up and hanging her from the hook by the duct tape around her wrists once more.

"Milliken's here. Time for us to have that discussion..."

**A/N: Don't hate me! A couple more chapters and we ought to have this one wrapped up. Thanks for reading! Leave a review on your way out if you don't mind. I would surely appreciate your thoughts, ideas, and remarks! **


	17. Chapter 17: Facing the Demon

**A/N: Fair warning, this is a tough one. Beth is in deep, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you for reading!**

**Chpt 17: Facing the Demon**

The next few hours were a blur. Beth couldn't keep up with Bull's delusion. Milliken, a man that did not exist outside of Gareth's mind asked questions that he expected her to answer. Sometimes Bull would relay the question, other times he wouldn't. Beth had no answers, and her brain hurt too much to create adequate lies. Through it all, however, she refused to scream. She absolutely refused to let him see any fear. Bull rammed his palms hard into his eyes. Her silence was driving him away, but he was strong. He fought hard to keep control, driving away the other voices in his head.

After one particularly brutal blow to her gut, Beth spat at him, called him weak, asserted that he was no more than a pawn in Milliken's game. Bull flew back, clawing at his scalp and collapsed. This time Beth prayed he was dead.

She must have drifted into sleep or maybe she passed out. Beth wasn't sure, but when she felt tender hands on her face, her eyes flew open and she jerked back, wincing at the strain against her wrists.

"Shhh, child. It's just me. Let me take a look."

"Nana," Beth said on a whisper and the tears she had held at bay when face to face with Bull now freely flowed.

"It's okay, sweet girl. You're gonna' be just fine."

"No. No I'm not," Beth said in a soft but desperate voice. "Not if I don't get out of here. He'll kill me. Just like he killed the others."

"Hush now, child. Let me see. I think your ribs are broken."

"Nana, listen to me. I have to talk to Gareth. Please, you have to tell him about Bull. You have to help me explain this to him. He's the only one that can stop him."

"I'm sorry, angel. I can't do it. Gareth couldn't handle it. I might lose him forever, and I just can't risk that. Here," she said and ran a cold, wet rag across Beth's face. "Your eye in nearly swollen shut. I'm gonna' see if I can't find an ice pack."

"Nana, please," Beth begged, panic slipping through her cool façade. "Nana, if you won't talk to him, then let me. It's the only way to save him. The only way to get rid of Bull and save us all," Beth shouted as Nana disappeared into the supply closet.

Nana soon returned with a shop towel full of ice and a first aide bag. "You have to stop this, child," she said firmly and squeezed her chin.

"But, Nana…"

"Stop talking and let me wrap your ribs."

Beth quieted and held her breath while Nana went to work. She had to find a way to get to Gareth, but she couldn't risk losing her only ally in Nana.

"You are the tiniest little thing," Nana said more to herself than to Beth. "Don't you ever eat?"

"Yes, m'am. I love to eat."

"Aint that something," she said, pausing in her work. "Here you are skinny as a rail, likely eating anything and everything you want while ol' Nana here can just look at something sweet and yummy and swell up like a potbellied pig." She chuckled and returned to the task at hand. She had gentle hands, such a contrast to the bruising force those same hands were capable of under Bull's control. Beth winced when Nana made the final tie to her bandages. "I'm sorry sweet girl, I didn't mean to hurt ya'."

"You didn't," Beth assured her. "Thank you Nana for your help."

"Oh, you're welcome, child. That's what I'm here for. Now lets get you down and take a look at that ankle. "

"How did you know about my ankle," Beth asked, wondering just what exactly Nana was privy to in this little circus.

"I saw you fall," she said as she drug a crate over for Beth to stand on. "when my sweet boy tried to help you down. Here, lean on me while you get your hands free."

Beth teetered on one foot and let Nana help her to the floor. "Sit, child… easy… Now let me see."

"Do you _see_ Bull? See what he does," Beth asked in earnest.

"Turns my stomach," Nana answered, voice sad and sincere. She busied herself with the first aide supplies while carefully avoiding Beth's eyes.

"You can't stop him…"

"No, child. I can't. I tried, near about the time this all started, but I realized that the stronger I got, the more my sweet boy disappeared. There just aint room for all of us to occupy more space than we're meant to."

"Gareth is lucky to have you."

Nana's entire face beamed at the compliment. She tapped Beth playfully on the nose. "You're so different than the other girls I've had to work on. You're smart… tough too. Just watch yourself. Bull's always been mean, but lately, he's been plum ruthless." Nana went back to tending Beth's ankle. "I'm no expert, but I think it may be broken. I'm gonna' wrap it, try and get rid of some of the swelling."

"Do you think Gareth could stop Bull? You know, if he had help?"

"That your way of askin' to talk to him again" Nana said, one eyebrow cocked knowingly.

Beth smiled sweetly.

"You aren't gonna' let this go are you." It was more of a statement than a question.

Beth shook her head "no".

Nana drew in a deep breath and huffed through her nose. "How you want to do this?"

"I don't know exactly. Maybe you could close your eyes, focus on finding Gareth, and I could just call to him, see if he wants to talk to me."

"Reckon we should hold hands too?" Nana joked.

Beth glared at her with absolutely no malice, and Nana chuckled. "Okay, okay. Let's give it a try."

The old woman closed her eyes and wished Beth luck. "Gareth," Beth asked quietly. "Gareth, I need to talk to you. I know you're in there and I know you can hear me." Beth spoke slowly and softly as if she were calling to a feral animal. "You don't have to be afraid, Gareth. My name is Beth, Beth Greene and I'm in trouble. You're the only one that can help me... Gareth, there's a man. His name is Bull and he's gonna' kill me. He's gonna' kill you and Nana too if we don't stop him. I need to talk to you Gareth. I need to see you, show you what's happening. Please, Gareth. I need to talk to you."

Nana's eyes popped open and for a moment Beth thought their little experiment had failed. "Who are you? Where's Andrea?"

"Gareth. Thank goodness… I'm Beth."

"Where are we?"

"We're in a warehouse. A man named Bull brought us here… You brought us here Gareth."

He shook his head and his brow twitched. He could feel the beginnings of a bad headache, the kind that usually knocked him out, caused him to lose time.

"Breath, Gareth. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on me," she said gently and took his hand into hers. It was awkward and painful with the duct tape wrapped so tightly around her wrists, binding them together, but she felt him relax a little at her touch.

Gareth's blinked rapidly as if he were waking up. "What's happening," he whispered.

"Gareth, the headaches that you have… the lost time. It's because you have another personality, one that exists in your head. When he takes over, you lose time. I know this sounds unbelievable at best, but I need you to trust me. I want to help you, but I don't have a lot of time. This man, this other personality, he's not a nice person. I need you to help me stop him, to help me keep you around instead of him."

"No… I… I don't…"

Beth squeezed his hand. "Gareth," she commanded with gentle authority. "Gareth, when did you start to lose time? Was it during college? When Andrea disappeared?"

"How do you know about Andrea?"

"I'm investigating her disappearance. Hers and several other girls' too. I know you cared about her. I also know your headaches probably started about the time she disappeared… Am I right?"

Gareth pulled his hand away from her and pressed his palms hard against his eyes.

"Stay with me, Gareth," she commanded, and pulled his hand back into hers. "Fight it. You can do this Gareth. Stay with me, and I can help you figure this out."

"Where's Andrea?"

"Gareth, listen to me. Your mom, she was sick. She had schizophrenia, so did your grandfather. It's inherited, and I think you have it too. I also think you have multiple personalities living inside of you. Those two things make it impossible for you to live in the same reality that the rest of us live in. Do you remember me from before? Do you remember how you thought I was Andrea? How confusing it was when you realized that I wasn't her after all?"

Gareth shook his. "I don't understand. You think... You think I hurt Andrea... You think I'm crazy?"

"No, I don't think you would ever willingly hurt anyone, especially Andrea. I think you need help. We all need help from time to time, you know? I want to help you understand what's happening, what's really happening when you lose time. And I'm hoping that, in turn, you can help me too."

He frowned, but he didn't pull away.

"Gareth, it's not your fault. Please believe me when I say that, but you need to know, one of the personalities that your mind created is not a nice person. His name is Bull, and he uses your grief over Andrea to feed his own delusion. He uses you to capture girls that remind you of Andrea, then he hurts them, Gareth. He hurts them just like he hurt me."

"Did he do this to you… Did I" he asked, lip trembling, voice rising in panic. He was starting to sweat and Beth feared she might lose him.

"_He_ did it Gareth, not you."

Gareth covered his head with his hands and buried it in his lap. His shoulders shook as his quiet tears began to fall. "Did he hurt Andrea," he asked, voice thick and muffled.

"I honestly don't know what happened to Andrea. No one has seen her in a very long time, but maybe, with some help, we can figure it out."

He shook his head back and forth quickly, but he didn't look up. "Gareth, I can get you the help you need, maybe even find Andrea, but first we have to get out of here. We have to hurry, Gareth. Can you help me cut this duct tape?... Gareth, please… before Bull comes back…"

"Too late, Princess," he said and lifted his head. "I'm baaaack."

Beth screamed. She couldn't help it. He was terrifying. He grabbed her and hoisted her up before she could even react. She pounded at his back and head, twisted and turned in his grip, but he was impossible to stop. He climbed onto the crate and forced Beth's arms up and over the hook in the center of the room. She bucked and kicked, doing everything in her power to find some sort of leverage, but it was no use. He jumped down and kicked the crate across the room, leaving Beth to swing like a piece of meat. He caught her from behind and pulled her tight against him. His breath was hot and rank in here ear. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? Sure you don't want to tell me what you did to land yourself on Milliken's list?"

"Milliken doesn't exist and neither do you, you crazy son of a bitch," she spat through her teeth.

"If that were true, then this wouldn't hurt a bit would it," he cooed as he lifted her shirt and drew his blade blindly across her midsection from sternum to hip. The cut wasn't deep, but it still hurt like hell. Warm, sticky blood trailed down her leg to the floor. He circled around to her front and inspected his work. "Well now, that's gonna' leave a mark."

The metallic smell of blood filled her senses. She gagged and wretched, but nothing was left on her stomach to lose. She drew in a long, rough breath and heard a loud thump. Bull lay perfectly still on the floor at her feet. As quickly as he had fallen, he was up, stumbling, but when he saw the blood, he fell to the floor again. Beth remembered what Nana had said about Gareth and the sight of blood. He was trying. Gareth was fighting back.

"Gareth! Gareth, wake up!" With great effort, she kicked her feet out and hit him in the shoulder. Pain shot through her damaged ankle. "Gareth, _please_," she begged, nudging him again. Desperate tears welled in her eyes. "Gareth!" she screamed, the sound primal even to her own ears, but he remained limp on the floor. "Gareth, please," she pleaded on a sob as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

Gareth whimpered, and hope sprung eternal in Beth's heart. "Gareth! Gareth, if you can't help me, send Nana. Please, Gareth. Send Nana!" She took one more determined swing at him, holding her breath and driving her feet hard into his shoulder. The pain was too much, and Beth fought her own battle with consciousness.

"Oh, sweet girl…" was the last thing she heard as she drifted into nothingness.

**A/N: Thanks for staying with me. I know these last two chapters have been a lot to endure, but we're almost there, I promise. Up next, a whole lot of Daryl. He's on to something, and he won't stop until he finds her! **


	18. Chapter 18: Creature of Habit

**A/N: Let's go get Beth! (I'm kind of proud of this chapter. Hope you enjoy!)**

**Chpt 18: Creature of Habit**

The Feds set up a perimeter around the abandoned camper and fanned out from there, searching the woods in a grid pattern. Frustrated, but lacking a better plan, Daryl, Rick, and Glenn joined in. Michonne, instead, returned to the hospital to spend a some more time with Sophia, hoping maybe she could shed a little more light on her captor.

"Sophia?," she said as gently as possible. Sophia lay in her hospital bed, eyes unfocused toward the window. "Sophia," she tried again. Sophia turned slowly toward her, and a small smile pulled at her chapped lips.

"You look better today. How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you. I'm going home today." Her voice was stronger and her head was clearer. Michonne hoped she might be able to recall a little more of her captivity.

"I know. That's wonderful."

"Thank you again for finding me, for saving me..."

"You're welcome. May I," Michonne asked and pointed to the chair next to the bed.

"Yes, please. You want to talk more about what happened," she guessed.

"Yes, have you remembered anything else?"

"I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think he might have multiple personalities."

"Why do you say that," Michonne asked and leaned forward resting her forearms on her knees.

"Well, when he would get angry or sad, it was more than just a mood change, you know? It was like everything changed, his voice, his mannerisms, even his face seemed to change. I don't know, maybe it was the drugs he gave me..."

"How many personalities would you guess."

"Um, let's see. There was the one who picked out the dresses he wanted me to wear. He was polite and shy. He called me Andrea? Does that mean anything?"

"It might. Tell me about the others. Every little bit helps."

"There was one that cried. He just kept apologizing, seemed scared, twitchy. Whenever he was there, he would fall asleep crying, sometimes he slept for hours, and I felt like I could rest too. He didn't seem like a threat, you know? The third one never said a word to me. He would come in and take pictures, but I never heard him speak. He was creepy, like stalker creepy. I think he enjoyed taking the pictures, like it was a photo shoot or something." Sophia's voice started to shake and she had to stop to catch her breath."

"Take your time. Want some water?"

"Yes, please," Sophia said gratefully taking the proffered cup from Michonne.

"How many is that," Sophia asked.

"That's three. The cryer, the one with the dresses, and the photographer."

"Right. There was one that was so angry. He was terrifying. He's the one that hit me. Kept asking me about a list and where he could find my boss. He was crazy..."

"Hey," Michonne said, drawing Sophia's focus. "It's okay now, Sophia. You're safe. He can't hurt you again."

"I know, but he can hurt someone else. I don't think I would have made it through if it weren't for the older lady."

"What lady," Michonne snapped at the unexpected information.

"One of his personalities. It was an older lady. She patched me up after the angry one hurt me."

"She?"

"Yes, I don't know how I know that, I just do. I think I would have died without her. She even sang to me once. I couldn't calm down. She helped me. I think I even thanked her." Tears ran freely down Sophia's face. "I'm sorry. That's all I remember."

"Don't be sorry. You've been really helpful."

"Have you found the other girl yet?"

"What other girl?"

"I heard him talking, yelling really, from the other room. He was talking about grabbing another girl. He called her the big fish."

"Did he say where he was taking her? Who she was? Anything?"

"He said he would take her to the box in the woods and call McMil... Mil..." Sophia tripped over her tongue trying to remember the name. "I can't remember exactly, I'm sorry, but I got the feeling that whoever he was arguing with didn't like the idea."

"Was there another person there?"

"No, I kind of think he was arguing with himself. I never heard another person speak. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You did great."

"I'm praying you find her... and soon."

"Me too," Michonne whispered and thought about the petite blonde she now considered a friend.

**~TWD~**

When Michonne returned to the campground, she found Glenn under a large black awning outside of the camper where Beth had been held. FBI was stamped across the overhang in bright gold letters. "Where's Daryl," she asked.

"He and Rick are checking a lead. An abandoned red Taurus was found 12 miles from here."

When did they…" Michonne's question was cut off by the sound of Glenn's phone.

"It's Rick," he said and slid his thumb across the screen. "Tell me something good."

He listened while Rick explained how they had found blood in the trunk of the red Taurus. The car was abandoned next to a driveway leading up to a small house. Owner said he came home today from a three day trip to find his 2006 black Jeep Cherokee had been stolen. "CSU is tossing the car now, but it looks like another damn dead end. I'm here with CSU."

"Where's Daryl?"

"He headed for the woods. I think he needed a minute."

"Michonne just got here."

"Anything new?"

"Here, I'll let you talk to her."

"Hey," Michonne said and Rick could tell by her voice that her visit with Sophia was a bust."

"Anything?"

"Just that this guy is crazier than we thought. Sophia remembers at least five distinct personalities. She's thinking a lot clearer today, but no new info that we can use."

"Alright. We'll see you in a bit."

Rick combed the area around the house searching for any clue as to where West might have taken Beth next. He knew it was useless, but it was either that or hover over CSU while he waited for Daryl to return. It wasn't long before Daryl came stomping from the trees, mask in place. He caught Rick's eye and nodded once letting his friend know that he was okay. The two men walked in silence back to the pickup.

Daryl slid the truck to a stop in front of a group of Feds at the temporary FBI HQ. As soon as Rick emerged from the passenger side, the truck pulled away and disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust.

"Where's he going," Glenn asked tentatively.

"Home I hope," Rick said starring after the truck. "He didn't say much. Out of his head worried. Let's wrap things up here. West is long gone. I'll check on Daryl on my way home."

Daryl drove at breakneck speed down the relatively deserted highway leading from the campground back to the city. He brought the truck to a screeching halt in his driveway and barreled through the front door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. He threw his keys hard enough that they left a dent in the far wall, and headed for the kitchen. Pulling a beer from the fridge, he tossed the cap across the room and took a long draw nearly draining the bottle in one breath. He closed his eyes and images of Beth, scared and hurt assaulted him, unbidden. He white-knuckled the bottle and flung it across the kitchen with a growl. It exploded into a thousand pieces sending amber liquid spewing in every direction.

His breaths were ragged in his ears. Daryl hadn't felt helpless in years, not since he had taken his last beating form his old man. All the anger, fear, and frustration that he had fought so hard to bury bubbled to the surface. He knew without a doubt that he would fight hell itself to get her back if that's what it took.

He headed for the back porch, knocking a chair over and out of his way in the process. Not bothering to the grab the tape or the boxing gloves from where they lay by the back door, he instead started pounding at the punching bag hanging at one end of the deck, bare fisted. Daryl had started boxing in the police academy. He found that the gloves helped him focus his punches and in turn his rage, unlike the blind fury of bare knuckled punches he had grown up throwing. He craved the centered alone time he spent at the bag. Some people ran to clear their mind, Daryl punched. He was lost in his own head when Rick found him.

"You're getting blood all over your bag…" No answer. "Daryl..." Knowing better than to sneak up on his partner, as if that were even typically possible, he raised his voice a notch, "Daryl!"

Daryl caught the bag and rested his forehead against it, sweat dripping from every pore. "I heard ya'. What a ya' want?"

"Well, brother, for starters, I want you to step away from the bag. I think it's had all it can take for one day. Then I want you to go clean up your hands."

Daryl looked at his knuckles. They were raw and bruised, but he didn't care. Rick tossed him a towel and Daryl used it to wipe his face, hiding behind it to catch his breath.

"Hey," Rick said gently.

Daryl dropped the towel, shook his head, and blew out a ragged breath.

"I know… When Carl went missing," Rick paused, his voice rough with emotion form the memory of that overwhelming fear that you never quite get rid of completely. Carl had been gone for exactly forty-two of the longest hours Rick had ever spent. In the end, they found him in the back of a semi hauling circus equipment to its next destination. Carl was eight years old and had made the decision to join the circus. He wanted to be a ringmaster and figured the best way to learn was to join the traveling band. It was Daryl who had, on a hunch after seeing how enamored his make-shift nephew had been with the circus, tracked down the caravan's route and hopped on his motorcycle in hot pursuit. With the help of the state police, he flagged them down, and found Carl asleep in the rear of the truck cab.

Rick cleared his throat and tried again. "When Carl went missing, I offered my life to God and my soul to the devil for his safe return. I know what you're going through partner, and I'm here for ya, just like you were there for me."

Daryl looked at Rick through a thick fringe of bangs, and swallowed hard against the lump of fear and frustration in his chest. "We got him back," he mumbled.

"Yeah, we did. And we're gonna' get Beth back too."

Daryl nodded, trying desperately to believe his friend and keep the faith. He shook the hair from his eyes and sniffed. Only then did he really see the damage he had done to his hands, even though he felt nothing but diffuse numbness. He thought, fleetingly, that he would prefer the pain.

"When's the last time you ate anything?

"Iduno," he shrugged.

"You shower, and I'll call in an order. Marco's okay?"

"Fine"

"The usual?"

Daryl shrugged again. Food was the last thing on his mind right now, but Rick was right. He had to stay strong for Beth. He felt like the answer was right there, on the tip of his brain, but he just couldn't quite pin it down. Maybe food would help. He needed to think, to figure out what exactly it was that they were missing.

**~TWD~**

When Rick returned, Daryl was cleaning beer off the wall. "I have New York strip, medium, just the way you like it, corn on the cob, and steak fries with hot sauce." Daryl's stomach growled to spite him. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and joined Rick at the table.

"I should call her aunt in Pennsylvania. I know Chief Greene's already told her, but I think…"

"Eat your food first," Rick said sounding very much like a mother hen.

Daryl pushed his steak around on his plate, distractedly. Rick tried to talk to him, but Daryl was having a hard time focusing on anything but Beth. "She's been gone fifty-two hours," he said knowing full well that the chance of recovery plummeted after the first forty-eight.

"Yeah, but this guy, he keeps them for two weeks. Beth's tough, smart too. _And,_ she's got the added bonus of knowing his history. She'll find a way to use that. I know its another night, but he's due back at the Walgreens tomorrow. If we haven't already found him, we'll grab him then. He's a creature of habit. We'll get him."

Daryl grunted and continued to play with his food. Rick watched him from across the table, wishing he knew what to say to comfort his friend. Suddenly, Daryl's head popped up. He frowned and his eyes jumped back and forth, the way they did when his wheels were turning. "Wait… What'd you say?"

"About what," Rick asked, not sure exactly where Daryl was headed.

Daryl stood up, fists pumping at his sides. He was thinking, working on something. "Beth said he's a creature of habit. Made me think 'bout opossums, always returnin' to their nest."

"Yeah, and?"

Daryl started to pace, mumbling to himself… "Lost a girl… desperate…" He stopped short and spun on his booted heel. "The warehouse," he growled. "Shit! She's at the warehouse."

Rick sprung from his chair and the two men sprinted for the door. "I'll call Michonne, have her get the others and meet us there…"

**~TWD~**

She heard his voice, but she couldn't be certain that it was real. She had heard his voice so many times over the last few days, always when she'd needed him most. His words were soft, soothing, and close, whispered endearments of comfort and encouragement. The gravel in his voice tickled her ear. He told her she was tough, reminded her that he believed in her. His words had given her strength when she had so desperately wanted to give up. She could almost feel him holding her, willing her to stay alive. "_I'm coming_," he whispered over and over again, and she believed him, knowing he wouldn't stop until he found her.

But now, he sounded angry, so angry. She frowned, wondering what could have happened to make him so mad. Even when they had had their final screaming match, years ago, before she left, when they had said all those angry and hurtful things, he didn't sound like this. His voice had cracked then from the hurt, the pitch higher than usual as he fought against the sting. It's how she had known he didn't really mean the hateful words that he spat at her. But this, this guttural, controlled anger was dangerous, deadly, and it scared her.

She pealed open her matted eyelids and focused on two black shoes, one parked on either side of her dangling feet. She hadn't even noticed the arms wrapped tightly around her neck and waist, nor the cold, serrated blade wedged beneath her chin. It hurt, but everything hurt. With great effort, she lifted her head, and the pressure around her neck increased.

"Beth!"

She heard the desperate cry of her name, and tried to focus on the source. Through the blur of too dry eyes and swollen lids, she saw him. _Daryl..._ He was there. She was safe. Her chapped lips ached against the small smile that she couldn't help. Relief spread through her and she broke, knowing she didn't have to be strong anymore.

Daryl stood with his gun trained on West, not thirty feet from where she hung in the center of the room. He winced when her eyes rolled back and her head lolled against West's shoulder. "Let her go," Daryl growled.

"Gareth," Beth whispered, swallowing hard against the fire in her throat. "Gareth, I know you're in there. Please… I need your help."

Daryl could see her lips moving, but he couldn't hear her voice. His finger itched against the trigger, but he didn't have a shot. Neither did Rick who stood near the door, blocking the only exit, gun also trained on what he could see of West.

West had begun to sweat. He tilted the knife at Beth's throat just enough to press the back of his hand into his eye. Beth lifted her torso and leaned away from the pressure, stretching to the very tip of her toes when the knife cut into her flesh. She whispered to him again, and Bull started to shake.

"I'll kill her Gareth, I swear," Bull screamed and tightened his grip on Beth. She cried out in pain, the shock of it jolting her fully awake.

She caught her breath and spoke aloud, her voice rough and foreign to her own ears, so that the whole room could hear. "He won't kill me, Gareth. I'm his only way out 'a here."

From the corner of his eye, Daryl saw Agent Hines slip through the door and make his way toward the little storage closet where they had first found the branding iron and all of the instruments of torcher.

"Don't just stand there! Do something," Bull commanded, eyes falling on nothing in the corner. "I swear, Milliken, I will hunt you down and kill you myself if you walk through that door! Milliken! Get back here you bastard!" He jerked Beth hard to the left as he shouted, lifting her feet from the floor and tucking himself even further behind her. Beth twisted painfully, snug against West. It was all Daryl could do not to rush him. His grip tightened on his gun, and he willed himself to stay calm for Beth's sake.

"He won't kill me Gareth. He wants to live. If he kills me, my friends will drop him in a second. Please, Gareth. I need you. You're the only one that can fix this. Be strong for me, Gareth," Beth pleaded, breaths clipped and ragged.

"Shut up!"

Daryl watched, helpless, as Beth struggled to pull an ally from Gareth West's head. Using what little strength she had left, Beth shouted his name, "Gareth!" startling everyone in the room. The noose-like grip around her neck and waist slackened. "I'm here," he whispered and the knife fell to the floor with a loud clang.

"POW!" The shot echoed off of the concrete walls, stinging Beth's ears. Rick ducked on instinct, but Daryl stood tall as Gareth fell, glancing at Hines and his proud grin.

"No," Beth whispered when Gareth followed the knife to the floor. A soft, sorrowful cry blew from her lips. "No! Gareth! Wake up!"

Daryl sprinted forward, holstering his gun on the way and kicked the knife across the room. Rick followed him, kneeling next to Gareth, checking for a pulse and finding none. Agent Hines squatted down next to him. "Nice shot," Rick said.

"Yep. That's how we do it at the Bureau." Hines quipped with a wink.

Daryl caught Beth around the waist and gently lifted her against him. "There's a knife in my boot," he said to Michonne who had rushed the room along with Glenn at the sound of gunfire. Michonne grabbed the knife and freed Beth's wrists from the duct tape. As she sagged against him, fisting his shirt in her hands, Daryl hooked his arms under her knees and cradled her to him. "I got 'cha, sweetheart..."

Beth whimpered and buried her face in his chest.

"You're gonna' be okay, girl. Just hold on," he said and headed for the door.

"Is he dead," she whispered, eyes wide and locked on Daryl's.

Daryl pulled her tighter to him. "Yeah… he's dead."

Beth drew in a stuttered breath and closed her eyes, her body going slack in Daryl's arms. He adjusted his hold and settled her head in the crook of his elbow so that he could see her face and feel her breath against his skin. "Beth… Stay with me, girl… Come on sweetheart, open your eyes."

She did as he asked, but only because it was him doing the asking. With great effort, her eyes fluttered open, and she did her best to focus, but the light was so bright, and her head felt too heavy. Daryl was warm and safe and protective. She missed his warmth immediately when he laid her gently onto the gurney. He followed her into the ambulance, holding tightly to her hand as the paramedics began their assessment.

Daryl held his breath when they placed the IV catheter in her arm. Beth, however, never flinched. One of the paramedics hung a bag of fluids and surveyed his patient while the other headed up front to drive. He listened to her chest and recorded her vitals. "She's stable."

When he lifted her shirt to further assess the damage, he and Daryl both sucked in an audible breath. The cut that ran from her sternum to her hip was jagged, red and angry. It loomed in stark contrast to the milky white skin it marred. An enormous deep purple bruise with dark scarlet streaks engulfed the skin over her left ribs and side. Daryl squinted against the tears welling in his eyes. He would've charged right back into the warehouse and killed that son of a bitch three times over if he could've.

When the paramedic pressed against her side, Beth's eyes flew open and her knees shot up in response to the pain. Daryl grabbed her around the shoulders and eased her back down onto the gurney, all the while sending the paramedic a murderous glare. "I'm sorry, Miss. I'm gonna' give you something for the pain, okay?"

Daryl squeezed Beth's hand and watched closely, still scowling, as the paramedic retrieved a loaded syringe from a locked box behind him and injected the contents into her IV line. Beth relaxed as the warmth of the narcotic slid through her veins lulling her into sweet oblivion. This time she welcomed the darkness knowing she had nothing to fear with Daryl by her side.

When her hand went limp in his, Daryl panicked. "Beth... Beth!" He grabbed the paramedic by the collar. "Do something!" The paramedic checked her vitals again and Daryl backed off. "She's okay. I just gave her Hydromorphone for the pain. It's a narcotic, very safe. She's dehydrated and weak, but her pulse is strong."

"She aint weak," he growled.

"ETA, six minutes." Daryl heard from the front. "What do I need to tell them?"

"Tell 'em we need a surgeon. Taut abdomen. Extensive bruising over the left chest and side, possible broken ribs from blunt force trauma. Laceration across quadrant one, two and four. LRS drip. Hydromorph on board."

He turned to Daryl who eyed him expectantly. "I think she's bleeding into her abdomen. See these streaks and the way the bruise trails over and down her entire left side? I think the trauma may have ruptured her spleen. Her abdomen is tight and painful."

"That's fixable, right?"

"They'll take good care of her," the paramedic hedged.

Daryl hummed his understanding and turned back to Beth. "Toughest person I know," he mumbled. He looked at Beth lying so still next to where he sat, his hand feathering through her hair and tucking it behind her ear. For the first time in a long time, Daryl bowed his head and prayed, begging God to please let her be okay.

**A/N: So there it is! Daryl has his girl back. Hope it didn't disappoint. Please review. Always appreciate knowing what you think!**


	19. Chapter 19: Recovery

**A/N: So sorry for the extended time between updates. I just hate to see this thing end! This has been one of those "I've poured my heart and soul into this one" kind of stories for me. One more chapter after this (already written) and we're done. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!**

**Chpt 19: Recovery**

Daryl paced. It's what he did when things were out of his control. Beth, all beat to hell and in surgery, was definitely beyond his control. Rick sat next to Chief Greene in quiet conversation. Back and forth Daryl paced in front of the window, chewing the side of his thumb. It had been two hours and twenty-two minutes since Daryl had been forced to let go of her hand as they whisked her away to surgery. Two hours and twenty-two minutes since he was last able to take a decent breath. The ultrasound confirmed that Beth's spleen was ruptured, split in half to be exact. "You can live without a spleen, right," he had heard Chief Greene ask.

"Yes. She will have to be careful, take care of herself because the spleen is important for immune health, but you can certainly do just fine without it. We're going to open her up and explore just to make sure we don't miss anything. It's a longer recovery than the laparoscopic procedure, but it's the right call. The orthopedists is on standby, and depending on how things go on my end, they will likely set that ankle while she's under too. I'll send a nurse out with updates."

Chief Greene nodded his understanding and gave the surgeon a grateful thank you.

Two hours and twenty-six minutes. "Someone with the Greene family?"

"Yes! Right here," Hershel called and stood to meet the scrub clad nurse. Daryl froze a few feet away, heart pounding against his chest.

"Dr. Romani wanted me to let you know that she's doing great. The spleen is out. There didn't appear to be any other internal damage. We had to give her two pints of blood, but she's been steady and strong through the whole procedure. She has one long incision down the middle of her belly. That's from the surgery. The jagged line across her ribs and down her side is from the knife wound. We got that all cleaned and stitched as well. Dr. Skinner, the ortho, is in with her now. When he's done, we'll take her to recovery and then to ICU for the night."

"We can see her then?"

"Yes, I'll come and get you as soon as she is settled."

"She 'gon be alright," Daryl asked, voice dry and rough.

The nurse looked past Chief Greene and smiled. "Yes, sir. She should be just fine."

Daryl pulled in a long steadying breath, and nodded to the nurse. Inside he just kept telling himself that she was tough. Toughest person he knew. She was gonna' be okay. She had to be okay.

Hours later, Daryl and Hershel were escorted into the ICU unit for a brief visit. "Five minutes," the nurse instructed.

Daryl nodded, grateful for anything they were willing to give. The last time Daryl stood in ICU was the last time he had seen his brother alive. A cold sweat pricked at his neck and his lungs suddenly seemed incapable of taking on air. He shoved his hands in his pockets to still the tremble before Chief Greene could take notice. His stomach dropped when he saw her lying so still and pale in the hospital bed. Lines fed each arm from two clear bags hanging on either side of her. Machines beeped and hummed in quiet concert from all around her. Chief Green took his daughter's hand in his and lifted it to meet his bowed forehead. Daryl remained stalled in the doorway. It wasn't until Chief Green lifted his head and gently placed Beth's hand back at her side, standing and stepping back from the bed, that Daryl seemed to snap out of his frozen state. In a rush, he hauled himself to her side and covered her hand with his. Unbidden and unexpected tears slid down his cheeks. His vision blurred and his head dropped to their joined hands as quiet sobs shook him head to toe. Chief Green slipped slowly back across the room and rested a reassuring hand on Daryl's back.

"She's gonna' be okay, Son," he whispered. "You brought her home, and she's gonna' be just fine."

Daryl lifted his head and drug the back of his hand across his nose. Stuttered hiccups eased into deep steadying breaths as he focused on her face. Her lip was split and a closed laceration buried within the greens a purples of a deep bruise across her cheek was sure to leave a mark. Evidence to the world as to how badass his girl truly was. He ghosted his fingers through her hair and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, reluctant to leave her side ever again. Chief Green slid his arm to Daryl's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before the two men were forced to head back to the waiting room.

Hours later, after everyone but he and Chief Greene had long since said their goodnights, it was Daryl who broke the silence. "I love her," he all but grunted and Hershel wasn't sure at first if he was talking to him or two himself. Daryl's eyes were firmly fixed on his fingers where they lay laced together at his knees.

"I know. She loves you too."

Daryl nodded, but he didn't lift his eyes. He couldn't help but wonder what Chief Greene thought about his daughter takin' up with the likes of him.

"You make her happy, and that makes me happy," he said as if he had read Daryl's mind.

Daryl cut his eyes sideways toward his Chief. "Plan on makin' her happy from here on out."

Hershel nodded his approval with a small smile.

Beth spent two more nights in ICU before being transferred to a regular room. Each day that passed saw her stronger and stronger. Daryl returned to work, but only because Beth insisted. He came by the hospital before work, at lunch, and after work staying until visiting hours forced him out.

"You are one lucky girl," Nurse Lauren said when she stepped into Beth's room. "And I am not talking about your recovery. That man of yours could melt butter with those eyes of his. And those arms! Guns like that ought to be illegal."

Beth giggled, a slight flush rising in her cheeks at her new friend's assessment of Daryl. "He's pretty great, isn't he."

"Oh, honey. They way he dotes on you, that man could have an extra leg and skin like a toad, and I would still call you blessed."

"I'm going home tomorrow."

"I heard. That's wonderful. You're a tough little thing," she said and checked the one remaining IV line still connected to Beth. "I wish you all the best, honey... A word of advice?"

Beth nodded, a curious frown on her face.

"That man of yours has worried himself to death over you. He loves you, and he needs to take care of you right now. So let him."

A soft smile spread across Beth's face. "I will."

**~TWD~**

She could finally use the stairs. After four weeks of stifling immobility, the hard cast was gone from her leg, and she was free to move about. The removable boot she was stuck with was cumbersome, but manageable, and after everything she had been through, you would hear no complaints from her. Well, no complaints but one, and it really wasn't a complaint, but she wanted to go home. She wanted to spend the night in her own apartment, the place where her own personal nightmare took shape. The longer she stayed away, the harder it was going to be. Daryl, however, had other ideas. It wasn't that she didn't want to be here at Daryl's, quite the opposite in fact, she just absolutely hated that he felt like he needed to take care of her. She had told him as much that afternoon as they were leaving the Orthopedic Institute.

"I know you don't need me to take care of ya', girl. Just like having ya' near 's all." Beth narrowed her eyes at him, glaring without malice, because, really, how sweet was that. Daryl smirked, one corner of his mouth pulling up in victory. Beth rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the passing scenery, so grateful to be out of the house and back in the sun. "Hell, Beth, truth is, I aint ready to let you leave…," she heard him say. His voice was low, deadly serious, almost choked, much like it was the first time he had told her he loved her. She studied his face from the passenger side of the truck and waited patiently for him to continue. "Kissin' you goodnight," he said, almost shyly, "seeing you first thing in the morning… That aint somethin' Im willin' to give up."

A slow, sincere smile spread across Beth's face. How the hell could she argue with that! Her hand floated across the truck cab finding his where it lay on his thigh. "I love you, Daryl Dixon. And that won't change. I just need to face my demons so I can move forward… So we can move forward." Understanding, Daryl squeezed her hand and lifted it to his lips to brush a kiss against her knuckles. _Damn independent woman_.

Beth smacked his hands away when Daryl tried to lift her from the truck. Truth be told, she loved it when he scooped her up and carried her, but she was ready to be strong again and that began with her standing on her own two feet. Daryl steadied her in the driveway and stepped back, arms still slightly outstretched in case she teetered. Beth marched, well wobbled would be more accurate, but in her own mind, she marched, up the sidewalk and up the steps to the front door.

She had been a willing prisoner thus far, sleeping downstairs in the roomy master bedroom sans Daryl, much to her chagrin. While he had tried to hide it, Beth knew that he had been sleeping on the couch just outside her door. There were two small bedrooms upstairs with a bath in between. He had moved his things to one of the rooms, but Beth doubted he had yet to sleep in the bed. He was so careful with her these days, not that she blamed him. She knew he was just trying to do the right thing, give her time to heal, but she could feel him barely clinging to self-control every time they kissed. Admittedly, she did very little to diffuse the situation. Being here in Daryl's space, knowing how she felt about him, certain he felt the same way, made it extremely difficult for a girl to keep her hands to herself, even if it did pull at her scars when she moved.

Five weeks into her recovery, cabin fever had her tightly clinched in its iron fist. She was dressed and ready for work when Daryl retuned from an early morning hunt. He found her in the kitchen reading on her iPad. "You got another doctor visit today," he asked, and glanced at the calendar Beth kept on the fridge.

"Nope," she said. "Work," her tone leaving no room for argument.

Daryl grabbed the orange juice and took his time pouring a glass. He took a drink and narrowed his eyes, watching her decidedly _not_ watching him. "Thought you weren't due back for another week or so."

"I'm fine," she quipped with a bright, if not forced, smile. "Both doctors said I could do whatever I feel like doing. Today I feel like going to work."

"_Hhmmm_," he mumbled and took another big gulp of OJ.

Beth politely ignored his response and continued to fiddle with her iPad.

Daryl dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Don't leave without me," he grumped and headed for the shower.

Beth rolled her eyes and stood to clear her breakfast mess. "You want something to eat," she hollered after him.

"I'm good," he hollered back, and it hit her, all at once, how very right it felt waking up here in this house, getting ready for work, offering Daryl breakfast. It was like they had been in this routine for years, and Beth loved the promise of it. She still intended on going back to her apartment. She just had to. She hadn't been there since the attack, and she worried that each passing day would make it harder and harder to face. Daryl had asked Michonne to help him pack the things that Beth might need for an extended stay at his place. He had moved his everyday necessetities upstairs and had all of Beth's belongings neatly organized in the bedroom downstairs before he even brought her home. Although most people would have never guessed it, Daryl was incredibly thoughtful. He fiercely protected the things he held dear including Beth, the truth, the law, and his simplified way of life. Beth believed in those things too, and she found herself daily, more and more in love with this quiet, selfless man.

She had to admit that she was exhausted by lunch time when Daryl stopped in to check on her. He took her to eat and then home. She suspected that had been his plan all along when he insisted on driving her to work. "Who knew that five weeks of doin' nothin' could make a body so tired," she pondered as she snuggled in to Daryl on the couch. It felt so perfectly wonderful to wrap herself around him as if he were her own personal body pillow, especially now that she could maneuver without the ten-inch scar that ran from her breast bone to her belly button protesting. Hours later, Beth woke to the smell of the grill wafting in through the screen door to the back deck. She stretched gingerly, and teetered outside to find Daryl.

"There's my girl," Daryl said with that barely there smile of his. He was flipping steaks and looking deliciously domestic at the moment. "Thought you might be down for the count."

"What time is it?"

"6:30, there 'bouts."

"Why'd ya' let me sleep s'long," she asked and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek against the powerful muscles of his back.

"You need your rest. 'Sides, I just got home a little bit ago."

"You left," she asked, shocked that even Daryl had been able to maneuver out from under her and sneak away without her waking.

"Girl, you were slobberin' and snorin' like Merle used to after a three day drunk." She could practically hear him smirking now.

Beth stepped back and gave him a playful slap on the rear before plopping down into one of the lawn chairs. "Guess I was a little more tired than I thought."

"You'll be a hundred percent 'n no time, Babe. Jus' don't push it. You don't gotta' prove nothin' to nobody.

"I know. I just… I'm ready to feel like me again, you know? I'm ready to be strong again."

"You are strong. Look at what all ya' been through. Damn, Beth, you're the strongest, toughest person I know."

Eight weeks out, every doctor she had seen since her rescue, including the FBI counselor, released her for normal activity without restriction. She couldn't wait to give Daryl the news, but he had been unreachable all day. He was the person she wanted to share all of her news with, good and bad. She loved him, of that she was absolutely certain. She had loved him, she reckoned, right from the beginning. The passion that smoldered behind those blue eyes of his set her insides ablaze. He was everything she could ever hope for in a man. Somewhere along the way, he had become her touchstone, her rock. He kept her sane and made her feel safe when things were as bad as they could be, holding her to him, whispering soft and soothing words as she shook from the nightmares that still sometimes haunted her dreams. He shared his strength when memories of the attack threatened to carry her completely away, patiently waiting for her to trust his words and find her way back.

When her phone rang a little past supper time, and she saw it was him, she felt her shoulders relax. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Think we got 'em, but I'll be late. Sorry." He sounded so tired. He and his team had been in it, knee deep, for over a week chasing a group of no goods on a tare around the city.

"Daryl Dixon, do not apologize for doing your job. Just be careful. I'll be here when you get home."

He called again three hours later. The intel was good. Everyone was safe. He wouldn't be much longer. Too wired to sleep, Beth wondered through the house and reflected on all that had happened in the last few months. Admittedly, the first few weeks of her recovery were bad. As bad as it could get at times. She had spent more than one night tucked tightly against Daryl after waking from a nightmare, screaming and panting. In that fight-to-survive state, somewhere between asleep and awake, she would kick and hit, lashing out at a threat that no longer existed. Daryl had taken the brunt of her fight more than once without complaint. Beth was horrified when he had worn the evidence of her madness in the form of four scratches etched deeply across his neck. With gentle strength, Daryl would snug her against him until she stopped thrashing, whispering her name over and over again until his voice finally broke through. She would dissolve into quiet sobs against him, only able to sleep when exhaustion drug her under.

With Daryl's help, she was getting better. The nightmares were few and far between as of late. She wondered if they would return when she went back to the apartment to stay. Funny how Daryl's place had become "home" and her old place had become "the apartment". She had been in his bed for two weeks now, although he was still reluctant to touch her. Their kisses had become heated at times, but Daryl always pulled back with steely self-control. "Not 'till the doctor says it's okay. Won't be much longer now." She understood his concern, and she didn't push, well, not too much anyway, but as of today, she was free and clear to do whatever she felt like doing. And being with Daryl was certainly something she felt like doing!

She slid onto the piano bench, and a soft smile graced her delicate features. She had been napping on the couch three weeks into her recovery when Daryl had shook her gently awake. His eyes were bright with excitement when he knelt beside her and told her he had a surprise for her. He helped her sit up and lean back against her pillows, making sure the blanket was tucked in around her. Backing away, he gave her a wink before turning and trotting to the front porch. Minutes later, he and Michonne had backed in through the front door, muscles flexed, dragging something big and cumbersome along with them. "Damn Daryl, this thing is heavy," she heard Rick complain.

"Rhee! Get your ass in here and help!" Daryl hollered as Beth figured out exactly what it was that had the four of them grunting with effort. She recognized it immediately. It was her mama's old box piano. She had meant to bring it to the apartment when she first moved back, but life had gotten in the way, and she just never made it happen. "Where do ya' want it?" Daryl asked and four pair of eyes landed on her tear streaked face. Speechless is not a word commonly associated with Beth Green, but there she sat, unable to form words, simply staring at the piano, overwhelmed by what Daryl had done for her.

Beth hadn't yet found her singing voice since the attack, but her fingers had no trouble tapping out a soft melody. It was there at the piano that Daryl found her when he finally made it home at near on midnight. "Hey," he said on a sigh when he saw her.

"Hey to you," she replied softly and scooted to the end of the piano bench in invitation.

He placed a soft, tired kiss on her lips and settled in next to her. Beth shifted and feathered her fingers through his bangs. "You okay?

"Long day," he sad and spun so that his head landed in her lap and his back lay flat against the bench.

"You hungry?"

"Nah, we ordered in at the precinct."

Beth stroked his face, thumbs rubbing against the deep crease between his eyes. He was chewing on the inside of his lip, the way he did when he had something important on his mind. "What is it?" she whispered.

His eyes drifted lazily to hers. "I don't want you to go… ever."

Beth smiled warmly and continued her gentle ministrations. "I have to. I have to know that I can be alone again and be okay."

Daryl sighed. He understood, but he didn't like it. "You're already packed aren't 'cha?"

Beth giggled softly. "For the most part."

"Will you give me one more night?"

"Do you promise to let me go tomorrow?"

Daryl scowled, less than happy with the condition, but he relented without a fuss, hummin' his response instead.

"Good," she said and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Grab a shower, and meet me on the back porch."

Beth headed to the downstairs bedroom to change clothes and gather a few more things for her suitcase. She threw her blouse and her skirt in the dirty clothes pile and stretched her neck unaware that Daryl had backtracked to find her. The desire for her that he had kept so well in-check over the last few weeks stirred low in his gut. She was wearing a black, formfitting camisole slip that hugged her petite frame accentuating every curve and swell. His hand itched to trace those curves and swells, and he wondered how much longer he'd be able to resist doing just that. Using his famous super stealth, he backed away from her room silently and headed up the stairs for a cold shower.

Beth felt a tingle in her spine and turned toward the door. It wasn't a feeling of foreboding, but it was a strong feeling none the less and it pulled her up the stairs toward Daryl's room. She tip toed down the hall and peaked in through the open bedroom door. She spied his dress shirt from the day before draped over the back of the chair in the corner. He had looked good enough to eat yesterday wearing that same dark gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Remembering the last time she had dawned Daryl's discarded dress shirt, she quickly shed her slip and buttoned his shirt around her. She pulled the collar to her nose and inhaled Daryl's scent. It wasn't his deodorant or his after shave. It was him. He smelled like earth and pine. If nouns could be used to describe the way he smelled, they would be words like honor, strength, loyalty, truth, and man. He was definitely _all_ man.

She heard the water stop and the shower curtain slide across the bar. She shuttered involuntarily at the thought of a wet and naked Daryl just on the other side of the bathroom door. When he appeared in front of her in nothing more than a white towel tied low around his hips, she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and took her time enjoying the view. Moonlight streamed in through the window highlighting his chiseled features. Beth's eyes followed a single drop of water as it ran down his chest, rising and falling over the ridges and valleys of his abdomen before sliding over the sharp v at his hip and disappearing behind the edge of the towel. Oh how she envied its course. Her feet carried her to him, and her hands pulled his face hungrily to hers.

A soft moan from Beth against his lips stole what little control Daryl had left. He lifted her against him and backed her to the bed. Sweeping the covers back with one hand, he lowered her gently to sheets that smelled like him. He was everywhere, all at once, and she breathed him in like oxygen. Her body arched into his needing to feel his weight against her, but Daryl continued to hover over her, muscles taut with the effort. He studied her through heavily lidded eyes, dark and stormy with desire. "_Beth…"_

"I'm okay," she said, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. Still he hesitated. "Daryl," she whispered, and his eyes found hers, "I promise."

Slowly, and ever so gently, Daryl lowered his body to hers, hard lines melding with soft curves on contended sighs. He kissed her tenderly, reverently, lingering on her lips, her eyelids, and her neck. She brushed her fingers over the lean muscles of his arms and around to his back as he slid down the length of her body to place more kisses to her hip and naval. Daryl's hand found her scar and he stopped, pulling his lips abruptly from the skin just above the waistband of her panties. Recognizing the panic in his eyes, Beth undid the buttons of her shirt, opening it to reveal the puckered, healing skin beneath his fingers. She rose to her elbows and pinned him with a dark and earnest stare. "We both have scars, Daryl. They're a testament to who we are, to what we've been through. We're survivors, you and me."

Daryl held her eyes and chewed his bottom lip contemplating her sincere words. How the hell did she keep finding a way to make things better, to make _him_ better? He had always been so ashamed of his scars, of what they represented. Beth was right, she had survived. He was proud of his girl for what she had come through. Though he could never be proud of his scars, perhaps with Beth in his life, he could finally make them more about his survival and less about his old man's temper.

"Daryl…" she whispered and he blinked, leaving his thoughts and returning to Beth. "Daryl, I…"

His lips crashed against hers, his hand sweeping across her scar and up her ribs freeing her from his shirt. His kisses were frantic, almost desperate driving Beth higher and higher as they touched and explored one another. He sat up on his knees and Beth reached for him, missing his weight immediately. With a flick of his thumb, the towel fell from his hips and he tossed it, forgotten, to the floor. Daryl lifted her to him so that they faced each other on their knees. Beth had never seen his eyes so gray and stormy. He kissed her greedily, hands tightening in her hair, angling her head for better access to her mouth. Beth slid her hands up his back and pressed her chest to his desperately needing to be as close to him as was physically possible. Daryl's lips burned a trail of fire down her neck to her breast leaving her breathless. Her head fell back as she arched into him, a soft moan escaping her swollen lips. His frenzied kisses slowed and turned agonizingly deliberate. He eased her back onto the bed and nudged her legs apart with his knee. Their eyes met and Daryl silently willed her to understand all that she meant to him. The soft smile she gave him, the one that started at her lips and spread all the way to her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

He lowered himself to her again, and she opened like a flower beneath him. They came together slowly then all at once, finding a rhythm they orchestrated together. She cried out his name as she tumbled over that precipice that only Daryl could lead her too. He went with her, whispering her name over and over into her neck. As they settled against each other, hearts racing, Daryl ghosted his lips against her ear. "You're everythin' to me, Beth."

He felt her smile against him and he pulled back just enough to see her face. "I didn't hurt ya' did I?"

"No, I'm good," she said and cupped his cheek with her hand. Daryl leaned into her touch before placing a gentle kiss against her palm. "I love you."

"I know," she said and kissed him softly. "I love you too."

"You really gonna' make me take ya' back to your place tomorrow?"

Beth giggled softly, "I need to spend some time there. It's the last step. Then I can put everything that happened behind me."

"When will ya' be back home?"

"Home," she asked, and a spark of hope lit behind her eyes.

"Yeah, home… here… home's here, Beth."

She blinked hard against the sudden onslaught of happy tears pooling in her eyes. Daryl kissed her forehead and rolled them so that Beth was tucked securely into his side. Together they drifted into peaceful, contented sleep, as the true meaning of home settled into their united hearts.

**A/N: So one more chapter ought to wrap this thing up. Quick update, I promise. Let me know what you think. Your thoughts are always appreciated. Oh, who am I kidding? Your reviews make my day!**


	20. Chapter 20: Full Circle

**A/N: So this is it! The last chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me! Special thanks to _arrowsandangels_. You are amazing! This has been a journey for me, one I hate to see end. I'm sure the majority of you reading this are also writers. You know what it's like to pour your heart and soul into a story, and how scary it can be to put it out there for anyone and everyone to see. I so appreciate you reading and reviewing!**

**Chpt 20: Full Circle**

**May 26**

"Hey," Daryl called quietly to Rick from across his desk.

Rick's head popped up, eyes abandoning the file he was reading. He frowned at Daryl expectantly.

"Wanna' show you somethin'," Daryl half mumbled.

"A'right," Rick said, curiosity written all over his face.

Daryl opened the top drawer of his desk and peaked at Rick through his bangs. Rick circled the desk and burst into a wide grin when he saw the black velvet box perched in Daryl's hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Open it," Daryl grumbled and held the box out for his closest friend to inspect.

"You know I'm already married, right." Rick teased.

Daryl scowled at his partner. "Dumbass," and promptly started chewing on his thumbnail when Rick opened the box and whistled his approval.

"You pick this out yourself?'

"Mmmhm," he said, wide eyes bouncing back and forth between Rick and the ring. "Think she'll like it?"

Rick smirked at his typically stoic partner standing there anxiously awaiting Rick's two cents on the matter. "She'll love it, brother. You did good," he said and handed the box back to Daryl.

"Hmmm," Daryl mumbled and studied the single solitaire shining back at him.

"Hey, what's up," Michonne asked as she joined the men at Daryl's desk. Daryl clamped his hand over the box and tucked it behind his back. Michonne looked back and forth between the two men and frowned. "What's that behind your back there, Detective?"

Daryl glared at her, but Michonne merely lifted her eyebrows expecting an answer.

"Damn it," he said and deposited the box in the middle of his desk.

Michonne reached for it immediately, snatching it up and popping the lid. She gasped and one hand floated to her chest. "Daryl it's gorgeous," she approved emphatically.

Daryl couldn't help the upturn of his lips at her reaction. "Yeah?"

Michonne drug her eyes from the ¾ karat, princess cut diamond to Daryl's. "Oh, yeah. She's gonna' love it." She passed the box back to a suddenly shy Daryl, nodding and smiling her approval. "When are you gonna' ask her?"

"This weekend. We're goin' campin."

"Smart move." Rick said. "Drop her in the middle of the woods so she can't run away. Got no choice but to say 'yes' then."

"You're funny, huh. Shut the hell up."

Rick clapped his friend and brother on the back. "I'm happy for ya', man."

"She gotta' say yes first."

"She will. No worries there."

Daryl sat and studied the ring intently, a thing he'd been doing a lot of in the last couple of weeks. He'd almost been caught twice already, but damn if he didn't get lost in the thought of asking Beth to marry him and thinking about her saying yes… or maybe no. A part of him just couldn't fathom a girl like Beth ever wanting to marry a dumbass like him. But each time he found his thoughts headed in that direction, his doubts were drowned out by the melodic sound of her "I love you's". He would picture that sweet, burn him to the ground smile of hers, and he knew she would never lie to him. He didn't understand it, but who was he to question it.

**~TWD~**

Tent set up and secured, Daryl turned his attention to Beth. He watched her gently blowing on the small flame, spreading it through the brush and wood in the fire pit she built. "How ya' makin' it?"

"I'm good," she said and sat back on her heals satisfied with the growth of the fire. "You've never brought me here before. You know this place?"

Daryl squatted down beside her. "Yeah. Me and Merle used to camp here. Long time ago, 'for things between us went to shit."

"That was the drugs. You know that, right," she asked and turned toward him, eyes shining.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. I don't really miss him anymore. Not like I used ta'. I think maybe I missed him more when he was alive than I did after he died." Beth nodded, and Daryl knew she understood. He reached for her, it was automatic now, and ran his fingers the length of her hair. She smiled up at him sweetly and warmth, independent of the fire in front of them, settled in his heart. With a certain burst of energy, Daryl popped up off of the ground and offered an outstretched hand to Beth. "Come on. Somethin' I wanna' show ya."

Daryl guided her up a small ridge and into a clearing, the woods fading behind them. The sun was just making its way over the horizon leaving behind a painted trail of oranges, blues, and purples across an otherwise clear Georgia sky. Beth could see the Chatahoochee racing a hundred feet or more below the plateau where they stood, fingers laced together as they most often were these days. "Daryl, it's beautiful," she whispered. "Why haven't you brought me here before," she asked dragging her eyes from the sky to him.

Daryl had his hands shoved in his pockets and he looked… nervous? Beth frowned at the notion of a nervous Daryl, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he shrugged and said, "Guess I was savin' it."

Beth tilted her head and patiently waited for an explanation.

Daryl turned toward her, squaring himself in front of her and drawing in a breath. He pulled the little box from his pocket and placed it gently in the palm of her hand. "I want ya' to have this. It's a promise, from me to you." Beth's eyes shot from the box to his. They were as blue and wide as he had ever seen them. "I promise to spend the rest a' forever doin' whatever I can to make ya' happy. You're everythin' to me, Beth. I promise to take care of ya' and to let you take care a' me. I'm always gonna' love ya'. Reckon I always have." A single tear escaped Beth's eye and wound its way down her cheek. Daryl swiped at it with his thumb, and settled his hand behind her neck gently pulling her forward and pressing his forehead to hers. "Will ya' marry me, Beth?"

A nervous giggle bubbled from her throat, and Beth started nodding her head before she could even speak. Tears bathed their joined hands and Daryl honestly wasn't sure if they were hers or his. He took the smallest step back and opened the delicate little box perched in Beth's trembling hand. The softest hiccup escaped Beth's lips when Daryl slipped his promise onto her finger. She launched herself into his arms, Daryl catching her easily and snugging her tightly to his chest. Beth whispered in his ear. "I love you, Daryl Dixon, and there is nothin' I want more than to be your wife."

**~TWD~**

"Looks like your gonna' need a new journal," Daryl said as he settled in next to her by the fire. Beth had been writing since dinner, a smile firmly planted on her sweet face, while Daryl cleaned up their mess and double checked the tent.

"No, this is the last entry. I don't need it anymore."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she said on a sigh. "Would you mind if I read you a few entries?"

"You sure?" he asked. She had been writing in that journal since she was released from the hospital. When she told him that the therapist she had been assigned to by the bureau had suggested she keep a journal, he had rushed right out and bought her one. It was constructed from soft leather, plain, with a single decorative stitch running up the spine. He would see her sometimes writing in it furiously, tongue just visible at the corner of her mouth, tears streaming down her face. That was especially true in the beginning. Other times he would catch her smiling and relaxed as she wrote. Sometimes she would crawl out from behind the pages and peak at him with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin that made him squirm, but never had she offered to share.

When she nodded, he scooted behind her and leaned against the log, pulling Beth against his chest. She cleared her throat and drew in a deep steadying breath.

**October 28**

_Where to start? Dr. Morgan insists that a journal will aid in my recovery, my mental recovery that is, but I haven't kept a diary since I was little. I understand the theory behind writing everything down, and I really like Dr. Morgan, so I promised him that I would give it a try. Poor Daryl. He's ben amazing. My aunt and uncle left yesterday. They stayed here at the house for a week, sleeping upstairs in the spare bedroom. They told Daryl that they would be fine in a hotel (Daddy having only the one bed in his little cabin-like home), but my hero insisted. For now, I'm stuck down here in Daryl's room, by myself I might add. My foot is healing where Bull sliced it open. It was infected so the surgeon had to debride it and let it heal on its own without stitches. Daryl has been doing the bandage changes because it still hurts too badly to bend and do it myself. My left hand is useless right now anyway. Bull had me hanging on a hook by my wrists, like a piece of meat. Evil bastard. It isn't broken, but it's badly sprained and it hurts. What doesn't hurt right now? Surprisingly, the answer to that question is my ankle. The doctor said it snapped back in place like a Lego. This big stupid cast is a pain, but it doesn't hurt. The jagged cut across my ribs and down my side is healing well too. The surgical incision down my middle is straight, almost artful in comparison. The stitches from both pull, and my ribs hurt worse than anything, but I'm alive. Nine days in the hospital. I thought I would lose my mind after the first four. I would have if it wasn't for Daryl. Guess it's safe to say that he has seen me at my absolute worst. The ugliness seems to cling to me sometimes. I especially hate the cut across my cheek, but Daryl says its "badass". I couldn't do this without him. I don't want to do anything without him._

Daryl sat perfectly still thinking on the words she just shared while Beth flipped to the next dog-eared entry. He still found it hard to breathe when he thought back to those horrific days without her. The first few days after her rescue weren't much better, but his girl was tough, and she had the scars to prove it.

**November 20**

_Went in to work today. It was a little awkward to say the least. Even Hines kept his snide remarks to a minimum. Agent Blake was arraigned a few weeks ago. His wife posted bail, and promptly filed for divorce. Aside from that, no one has heard anything from him. Don't expect that anyone will either. _

_Came home after lunch, exhausted, but I feel like writing. Seeing Hines today forced me to think about Gareth's death. He bragged about the single shot that ended Gareth and Nana's life. All I could do was thank him for being a part of my rescue. How could I tell him that a small part of me will always hate him for what he did while a bigger part of me will always be grateful? I've been actively avoiding that train of thought since it happened. I have forgiven myself for wanting him to die, wanting a part of him to die anyway. I wanted Bull to die. I can admit that. I wanted him to die a slow and painful death full of unimaginable suffering. I wanted him to feel what I felt, what all of those women suffered before he killed them. The paralyzing fear and overwhelming helplessness that all twenty-two women felt at his hand. Twenty-two women. That is such a small number when applied to most things, but not when referencing death. Twenty-two. One man. That's huge. The thing I struggle with the most is that, in wishing for Bull's death, I was also damning Gareth, Gareth who remained scared and innocent till the end. He was weak and insignificant in this world, abandoned at three, barely a blip on anybody's radar. The only man that maybe could have helped chose instead to send money. Monetary penance that actually cost him very little in the grand scheme of things. It certainly did nothing to help Gareth. Poor Gareth, forced to create Nana in order to have someone in his life that cared. It is because of Nana, at least in part, that I did not die. Add Gareth and Nana to the list of victims and the number grows to twenty-four. That's unfathomable. I will carry that number in my heart, always, but I will not let it destroy me._

Beth swiped at her eyes and leaned harder into Daryl. He ran his hands up and down her arms, squeezing once in support.

**December 18**

_Today was particularly bad. Dr. Morgan and I have talked about my fear and my anger. We've beat it to death actually. I think I'm good. At least I thought I was until today. He asked me why I'm sad. I told him that I wasn't sad. How could I possibly be sad? I'm alive. I'm loved. I'm healing. I'm also a liar. Gareth's death affected me. Nana's death affected me. I don't know that Gareth could have been helped. Perhaps his life ended the way it was supposed to, quickly and without pain. There is some measure of blessing in that, I know. Perhaps I am mourning for his life, for the emptiness, rather than his death. The sadness that I feel will fade. I know this because I have been here before. I carry a scar that daily reminds me that this too shall pass._

**December 19**

_Daryl surprised me today with my mother's piano. I wish that I could tell him how much it means to me to have it here. I wish that I could tell him how much he means to me, but there are no words. The simple truth of the matter is, I don't think my heart could beat without him at this point._

**January 6**

_We went out with the team last night. It was Michonne's birthday. We went to JP's Downtown. Nothing says happy birthday like bar food. It was delicious, everything fried and dipped in ranch. Mel and the Party Hats were playing. Best cover band ever! Daryl and I danced, well as much as I could dance with this big ol' boot on my leg. They covered "Free" by the Zac Brown Band and as corny as it sounds (my only excuse is that I am hopelessly in love), I felt completely free cocooned in his arms. How can one feel so free when one is wrapped up so tightly that breathing becomes an issue? I don't know, but I did. I do. I whispered in his ear, "I love you." He smirked (I do love that barely there smirk of his) and whispered back, "I know." That's sort of our thing now. One of us says "I love you" and the other says "I know". It's good to have a thing. Daryl's snarky, unexpected humor is just one of the many reasons that I fell in love with him. I wish he could see what I see when I look at him. He fills my soul to bursting with the way he loves me. I had hoped that he might stay downstairs with me tonight, but no such luck. When he kissed me goodnight, I did everything I could to keep him down here with me, but his resolve is unwavering. Stubborn cuss! He won't lay a hand on me until I get my medical release. Thank goodness I see my surgeon in three days._

Beth felt as much as she heard the amused rumble that shook his chest. "Took a lot a' damn cold showers back then"

**January 13**

_I hesitated before entering the apartment. I tried so hard not to, but my feet felt like lead, and I started to shake. Daryl went in ahead of me flipping on lights and clearing each room. I made it into the living room by the time he finished. There were no signs of a struggle, no evidence that anyone uninvited had been in the apartment. I didn't even realize that I was crying until Daryl wiped a tear away with his thumb and pulled me protectively to him. He said he would stay either in my bed or on the couch, whichever I preferred, but he wasn't leaving, not tonight. I think I may have argued, but only half-heartedly at best. To be honest, the thought of being alone was terrifying. I closed the bathroom door and locked it, a new habit for me. It used to be that I never even closed the door. I suppose a large part of my innocence is gone now. As much bad as I have seen in the world, I think I still maintained a certain level of naiveté when it came to my own life. Not any more. After my shower, I opened the door to find Daryl sitting on the floor across the hall. He stood and waited for me to take the lead. I know that wasn't easy for him. I held my hand out and let him pull me to him. He tucked me in, told me he loved me, and backed away. I squeezed his hand trying desperately to reassure us both. I tossed and turned for hours, finally drifting into an uneasy sleep. My nightmare pulled Daryl from the couch and down the hall to my room. He stayed with me, held me close, and I finally slept. I tried again the next night, but Bull was there to greet me again. This time, however, I didn't wake up screaming. It's an improvement. _

**January 22**

_No nightmares, not since the third night back in my apartment. My dreams are still sometimes scary, but they are only dreams, not the gripping nightmares that plagued my sleep in the months that followed the attack. Daryl and I had dinner out tonight. He asked me to come home with him, to stay. He said he can't sleep without me. Tomorrow I will go and talk to my landlord. We made love tonight, downstairs in Daryl's bed, our bed. It was slow and languid, familiar and all consuming. Daryl fell asleep quickly, wrapped tightly around me. It's late and I'm spent, but sleep eludes me for all the right reasons. I look at Daryl sleeping soundly next to me and I wonder how I ever took a breath without him. I am not well yet, but I am whole with him beside me. And isn't that the greatest blessing that love affords? _

Beth flipped through her journal, skipping nearly to the last page.

**April 16**

_Last appointment with Dr. Morgan today. He has declared me officially sane. It's nice to have that reassurance, I suppose! We've mostly talked about Gareth for the last month or so anyway. He would have been a fascinating study. Schizophrenia complicated by multiple personality disorder is extremely rare and incredibly sad. I still hurt for Gareth, but I feel nothing but relief in knowing that Bull is dead. I take comfort too in knowing that Gareth is finally at peace. To say that my life is good would be a profound understatement. It's not easy, but it is better than anyone deserves. I worry about Daryl working in violent crimes, doing the job that he does so well, but I would never ask him to change. His fearless pursuit of what is good and right is what first drew me to him. He is fierce and gentle and his capacity to love is endless. He says that I changed him, that I taught him how to love. I don't know that we can change who we are deep down, but I do think that we can grow and evolve into the best version of ourselves. I believe that Daryl and I are our best selves when we are together. We make each other better, stronger. _

**May 26**

_This will be my last entry in what I have come to refer to as my "recovery novel". Daryl just asked me to marry him! I still can't quite believe it. Turns out he asked my dad for my hand weeks ago. He even sought my aunt's advice about the ring. It's perfect. Simple and sturdy, just like us. I can't wait to be his wife, to have his babies, to grow old together rocking side by side on the front porch. So much has happened since last fall. I have been blessed with two second chances. I am alive and I am in love. I will thank God every day for His blessings, and I will do my best to make Daryl as happy as he makes me. _

Beth closed the journal and caressed the front of it fondly before tossing it unceremoniously into the fire. Daryl scrambled out from behind her and dove for it. "Shit, Beth."

Beth grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to her, cupping his cheek and forcing his face to hers. "Let it go," she said resolutely.

"What? But that's your journal."

"Daryl, I don't need it anymore. I have you, and I have your promise. I have the memories that I _want_ to keep locked in my head. The rest is just baggage. Let it burn."

Daryl shook his head and stood, pulling Beth with him. "Damn, girl," he said, eyes dancing back and forth between hers. "I love you."

"I know," she replied, fingers locking behind his neck, that shame-the-sun smile of hers spread wide across her face. "I love you too, Mr. Dixon."

His hands rested heavy on her hips as they swayed back and forth to the tune of the woods around them. "Reckon I'll be wantin' to marry you soon. Make it official and all."

"How soon," she asked, bouncing on her toes.

"I's thinkin by the end a' the summer? I know you'll need time to plan… What?" he asked, brow furrowed, when Beth began shaking her head, 'no'.

"I want to marry you _now_," she said, eyes as wide as saucers and sparkling, "tomorrow, as soon as possible."

"Beth…"

"I mean it Daryl," she said pinning him with her eyes. "All I need is you. The rest is bonus."

"You're crazy, girl. You know that?"

Beth giggled, rising to her toes, placing a soft promise on his lips. "I'm gonna' make you so happy, Daryl Dixon."

A rare, happy smirk pulled at Daryl's upper lip. "You already do, girl."

**~Fin~**

**A/N: Soooooooo, I hope you enjoyed reading my little story as much as I enjoyed writing it. The end is always bitter sweet for me. Please be kind and leave a parting word if you don't mind. I would greatly appreciate knowing your thoughts!**


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